Life is what Happens to You
by Resisting the Borg
Summary: Adam Taurus, Lancer, Milly Ashford, and Misaka 10033 travel the world and cause adventures. Reactsverse character with permission from ElfCollaborator. (Chapter 13 up! Down Time: Watcha Gonna Do?)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**This is the first fic I've written in a while now!**

**I'm still not entirely sure what it is.**

**Disclaimers: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth, Lancer belongs to Type/Moon, the Sisters belong to... the guy who does _A Certain Magical Index_, and Code Geass belongs to the people who made it. I'm not sure who they are, but it belongs to them.**

**Also, I'd like to thank (drumroll) ElfCollaborator, who was kind enough to give me permission to use Reactsverse!Adam Taurus.**

**Now, on with the show!**

**Our Heroes, Ladies and Gentlemen**

**May God Have Mercy**

The scenery was the same as any desert road at sunset. Red, red, and a little more red as far as the eye could see, except for the occasional cactus, which appeared black in the fading light. Still, in its way, it was majestic and awe-inspiring in its vastness. Much unlike the cloud of dust that, on second inspection, turned out to be an old, beaten-down RV that was plowing its way down the desert road. It trembled and shook, given the impression that it would collapse at a moment's notice if it stopped for a split second (which was a distinct possibility). But the readers aren't interested in the cringe-inducing ragged red-and-white exterior, or the mysterious structure someone had built on the top which seemed to be a radar tower or something of a similar function. No, they are interested in what was going on INSIDE, and the story that may or may not be happening. Thus, the author will cease his attempts to be poetic/descriptive and knuckle down and tell them.

Actually, nothing much was going on inside.

Seriously.

It was the same set up that somehow seemed to form in the evenings (or at least, the evenings when they weren't being chased by something). Lancer drove, with Adam sitting stiffly in the passenger seat with his arms akimbo, Milly sitting at the odd little table-booth thing, not quite dozing off, and Misaka had already been tucked into bed, but was badly feigning sleep just in case something out of the ordinary happened.

Well, Misaka had made the point that her full title was Misaka _10033_, but that was usually left out for convenience' sake.

Lancer, atypically, began to droop. Adam looked over at him, and slapped him on the back of the head.

Lancer's head whipped up, and he turned to glare at Adam. "What was that about?" he shouted. Misaka fell out of the loft in surprise and lay on the floor whimpering slightly. Milly, snapped into full wakefulness, leapt up to check on her.

"You can't fall asleep on the road, moron," Adam growled.

"I'm not falling asleep!"

"I'm not risking an accident!"

"What's to have an accident with? THERE'S NOTHING FOR MILES!"

"'Perhaps we should switch drivers,' Misaka suggests as she regains her breath," Misaka coughed. Milly lifted her into a sitting position. Lancer strained his neck to look over his shoulder.

"Look kiddo, no way am I handing this wheel to Grumpy over there! Not when it's the only thing I got to my name other than my spear! Understand?"

"EYES ON THE ROAD!" Adam roared.

"THERE'S NOTHING ON THE ROAD!"

The group fell into an annoyed silence. Finally, Milly broke it.

"You know," she said, "I've been wondering something, Lancer."

"Shoot," the Servant of the Spear replied through gritted teeth.

"Why is this the only thing to your name? Don't you have, like, a home or something?"

"Meteor fell on it," Lancer replied. Everyone stared at him. "Seriously. Big space rock out of nowhere. Boom."

"Family?" Milly attempted.

"I had a son. I accidentally killed him." Adam began to lean away from the Servant.

"Ah… a pet?" Milly asked awkwardly.

Lancer stiffened. "That's something I swore never to speak of ever again." He shuddered. "So many lobsters…"

Milly blinked. "Okay?"

"'Actually, random bad luck is why I ended up leaving home too,' says Misaka, reminiscing," Misaka... well, remincisced.

"Oh, really? How's that?" Milly asked, pulling out a small notebook and a pen out of her pocket. Adam glared back at her, and she hesitantly put them away.

"'Well, it was kind of an accident,' Misaka recalls…"

* * *

_/10032/ What do you mean, you put her on the wrong train? Misaka asks, confused._

_/11035/ I'm sorry! I had the wrong time! Misaka blubbers inelegantly._

_/Last Order/ 19090, where does that train go to? asks Misaka as Misaka is worried._

_/19090/ According to this web page… Vacuo, Misaka reports._

_/Last Order/ That's on the other side of the continent, Misaka says as Misaka has an unfortunate realization._

_/10033/ How do I get home? Misaka asks, worried._

_/15011/ Maybe you could hitchhike, Misaka suggests, offering a solution._

_/10032/ Shall I ask Onee-sama? Misaka suggests hopefully._

_/16061/ What would Onee-sama do about this? Misaka ponders._

…

_/19090/ SHE'S GOING TO KILL US! Misaka laments her decreased lifespan._

_ "Something wrong?" Misaka Mikoto asked, giving her 'younger sister' a concerned look. This was the first time that she'd ever seen the girl actually make an expression, and the fact that it was one of terror was slightly worrying._

_ "'No, nothing,' says Misaka, trying to figure out a way to break the bad news." Misaka 10032 replied._

_ "Oh dear," Mikoto groaned, facepalming._

* * *

"… I see." Milly said. She grinned at Adam. "While we're on the subject, what about you, Adam? How come YOU are traveling with this merry band? Wouldn't you rather be striking angsty poses on top of skyscrapers?" Adam spent a moment trying to figure out what she meant, before deciding that he didn't care.

"I don't see any reason to tell you, Ashford." he replied.

"'I'm a little curious myself' says Misaka, her interest roused," Misaka said.

"Yeah, spill dude!" Lancer grinned.

"No," growled Adam, reaching down between the seats to grab Wilt and Blush. "It's none of your business."

"'Is it because of Siegmund Schnee?' asks Misaka, noting a possibility." Misaka asked.

Adam paused at that. "… Partially, I guess," he said.

Now that he thought of it, Siegmund Schnee probably did have something to do with it. Adam had, after all, collaborated with one of the most unpopular people on the planet, blackmailed into it or not, and something like that tends to make one rather unpopular. He had packed his bags the day Siegmund had been defeated, and jumped aboard the first transport that he had found—one that had unfortunately turned out to be Lancer's RV. There were also a few emotional, heartrending details in there, but he tried to avoid thinking of them as best possible.

"Oh right, you did…" Milly trailed off. "Why are you smiling like that, Lancer?"

"It's your turn," Lancer smiled menacingly. "So what's your story? Why are you here?"

Milly, aware of Misaka giving her an expecting look, smiled at her and tried to push down the memory of the two girls who were hot for the same guy.

* * *

_Shirley lay unconscious on the floor. Kallen, red-faced, was trying to still trying to revive her. Standing imperiously, in front of Milly was Lelouch, all the fury of the ages in his eyes. Milly backed away, bumped up against the wall, cast around for an escape route, realized there was none. Now she wished she had never made that bet with Yang Xiao Long…_

_ "Don't you realize, Milly…" the prince seethed, "The only ones who should ship… ARE THOSE WILLING TO BE SHIPPED!"_

* * *

"Made a bet," Milly replied smoothly, smiling as brilliantly as possible and reflecting that it had, in fact, been _Cornelia_ who'd thrown the first punch.

"There's more to it than that," Lancer smirked. "You seemed very… interested in getting the heck out of Dodge."

"Well, you know about bets, and how they go sour," Milly said, trying to smile even more brilliantly and instead hurting her facial muscles.

"Come on Ashford, details," Lancer said encouragingly. "Someone as loaded as you doesn't just make a run from a bad bet, they pay people to make the bad bet go away. You? You probably got in a lot more trouble that a bet." He turned to look over his shoulder. "Well? What's the story?"

"I made a bet with a friend, someone found out that I didn't want to find out, and everything went downhill from there," Milly replied, attempting to make the question go away through the classic strategy of being overly vague.

"Where is Dodge, anyway?" asked Adam. Milly silently celebrated the change in subject, and Lancer gave his fellow male an odd look.

"Huh?"

"Thinking out loud, human," Adam replied.

"Technically speaking, I'm a Heroic Spirit," Lancer pointed out.

"Technically speaking, I don't care," Adam riposted.

"'I fail to see how this relates to—'"

"Technically speaking, you really should," Lancer growled, "I could own you if I wanted."

"… Misaka attempts, growing irritated at—"

"Technically speaking, I'd like to see you try," Adam challenged.

"Technically speaking, I'll do more than try!" Lancer boasted.

"CACTUS!" Milly shouted. Lancer and Adam, who had been glaring at each other half a minute before, whipped around to see that they were, in fact, about to drive through a number of ten-foot tall Saguaro Cactus. Lancer slammed on the brakes, and the RV plowed through three of the tall green plants before sliding to a halt.

"What are cacti doing in the middle of the road?" Lancer asked. Adam cranked the window down, and craned his neck out of the window.

"We're not on the road, Moron," he growled.

Lancer gave him a confused look. "How are we not on the road?" he asked.

"Maybe if you had been WATCHING THE ROAD, you'd KNOW!" Adam shouted. Lancer scowled, and switched the RV into reverse.

"'I'm going to bed now,' Misaka says, trying to avoid the next inevitable shouting match," Misaka announced, climbing into the loft.

"Bed sounds nice," Milly agreed.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well? What did you think? Any criticisms you have? Glaring problems you noticed? Please tell me what you think and review.**


	2. Drunken Fist

**Author's Note:**

**Hello again, readers! (If you are, in fact, reading this. If you aren't, then... oh well.)**

**Disclaimers: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth, Lancer (and, by proxy, Fate/Stay Night) belongs to Type/Moon, the Sisters belong Kazuma Kamachi, and Milly Ashford belongs to the company that made _Code Geass_ (I think it might be SHAFT?).**

**Drunken Fist**

**Who's Idea Was That, Anyway?**

"We're out of vegetables," Milly said. She stood and shut the refrigerator door. "Is there a town coming up soon?"

"Don't care," replied Lancer, focusing pointedly on the road. They had finally departed the desert earlier that morning, which was fortunate, because a desert view can wear on the nerves slightly after three or five days. However, that meant that they were now navigating _mountain_ roads, which were significantly more tricky than desert roads. "Not like we need them, anyway," he added. There. That should put an end to that problem.

"'Vegetables are an integral part of a healthy diet,' says Misaka, stating a medical fact," Misaka pointed out, lowering her magazine. Lancer frowned. The problem was not going away. It was, in fact, becoming bigger.

"No need for veggies," Lancer repeated, attempting to close the issue. Milly glared, and then opened the fridge again.

"Adam, window," she commanded. Adam craned his head around to see what she was up to, then snapped back down and began cranking the window down. Lancer had all of a split second to notice something in the corner of his eye before Milly tossed it out of the window.

"'Are you entirely certain that was legal?' asks Misaka, concerned about the possible ramifications," Misaka said.

"What was that?" Lancer asked, with a growing sense of dread. Milly wouldn't have done it, would she? On the other hand, Milly was smirking almost evilly in the rearview mirror…

"Your beer," Milly confirmed cheerfully.

This was no longer a problem. It was a catastrophe.

"Adam. GPS, now," Lancer ordered. Adam popped open the glove compartment and began to rummage through in search of the mythic direction finder. Lancer hunched over the wheel and tried to ignore Milly's snickering.

It wasn't very easy.

* * *

Within minutes of arriving at the nearest town, Lancer had grabbed Adam by the back of his coat and run off, leaving the girls to do the shopping. The Servant of the Spear had then dragged his traveling companion on a mad charge through the streets of the relatively small mountain hamlet, until they had come upon a bar. Lancer then hauled Adam inside, plopped them down at the counter, and demanded booze. Adam hadn't been too worried, until Lancer had declared himself to be "free as a moose." It went downhill from there.

"Seriously, man! What's her problem?" Lancer grumbled into his beer. Adam, seated stiffly beside him, examined the second pint of beer (out of fifteen) that Lancer had insisted on buying.

What? You want to hear about the bar? About the lighting, or the waitresses, or the atmosphere, or the customers?

Go find a movie with a bar scene. Chances are it looks kind of like that.

"I mean, what do we need veggies for? We've got fruit, right?" Lancer continued. He took another swig of beer and slammed his glass on the counter. "Fruit… It's like MAN veggies, right? We don't need no prissy little GIRL veggies!"

"I think you're becoming intoxicated," Adam replied, scanning the bar for an exit.

"I'm not drunk," Lancer grinned. "I'm just a little whatsit… Toxic somethin'. Like that." He gulped down the last of his beer, then examined the glass. "'M out."

"Is there a reason for you to get yourself drunk?" Adam asked.

"Nope, no reason. Just mad 'bout Milly and veggies," Lancer replied. He rested his chin on the counter, and exhaled. Adam rolled his eyes (well, he was wearing his trademark mask, but he very much had the air of a person rolling his eyes) and looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. Then he looked down and saw Lancer eyeing his drink.

"No, you've had enough," Adam said, lifting the pint of alcohol away from Lancer. The Servant, somewhat problematically, decided not to be deterred and leapt at him. Adam kicked off the counter and tossed the glass of beer into the air. Rolling backwards, he came up to a standing position and grabbed the falling glass out of midair. Almost as an afterthought, he stretched out his arm to allow the beer to fall back into its container.

Lancer fell in a heap where Adam had been sitting a split second earlier. He jumped to his feet and lunged again. Adam twisted to the side, allowing the Servant to once again pass him by. Lancer, however, spun and landed in a crouch, once again lunging. Adam was forced to dodge time and again, his traveling companion's overeager swipe coming far closer to his desired prize than Adam felt at all comfortable.

Lancer, it occurred to Adam, truly was dangerous when he actually tried to be.

This was demonstrated when, just as Adam attempted another last-second dodge, Lancer brought up a fist that Adam honestly hadn't been expecting and planted it directly on Adam's mouth. This of course, had the unintentional effect of sending the beer flying.

"O Noes!" shouted Lancer. Adam simply flopped to the ground while he waited for the stars to go away. The glass itself went spinning gracefully through the air, end over end, sending its payload spilling through the air in a yellow-brown arc that hung shimmering in the air. Then both fell to the ground because, as anyone with a brain can tell you, glass and beer do not fly.

Only now did Adam become aware that all the eyes in the bar were fixed on them, staring in some mixture of awe, irritation, and "meh." Adam groaned, and was glad that he was wearing a mask.

"We'll be going then," he said, forcing himself to stand and slinging Lancer over his shoulder. He turned, and walked towards the door.

* * *

"Okay," Milly said, looking through her cart, "That's everything on the list. We even got more beer for Lancer. He'd better be grateful…"

"'I am sure he will accept your apology,' Misaka replies, observing the unusual rituals of her friends," Misaka contemplated.

Milly raised an eyebrow. "Friends? I don't think we're THAT far down the road yet."

"'Really? Onee-sama told me that friends always stick together, and that they fight side by side,' Misaka wonders," Misaka said.

"That's… close," Milly admitted. "But it's not quite there. There's got to be something else. It's a… I really don't know how to explain it. You'll understand someday."

"'Okay,' says Misaka, curious," Misaka said and rustled through the groceries. "'Should we check out now?' she adds, committing the previous conversation to memory."

"Sure, let's do that," Milly smiled.

And thus, the two of them were treated to the sight, upon leaving the small store, of Adam standing in front of them as solemn as ever, with a decidedly less solemn Lancer hanging off of him lamenting the loss of his "Beer-kun."

"Huh," said Milly.

"'How did you know where we were? I thought you left before we could find a store' asks Misaka, curious."

Adam (presumably) cocked an eyebrow. "You underestimate me," he said. And he left it at that.

"Oh well, I guess we won't be on the road until Lancer sleeps that off," Milly said. "Who wants to check into a hotel room?"

"I do," Adam replied, "but that won't be possible."

"Why not?" asked Milly.

"Because you just spent all of our non-gas money."

"Oh."

There was a short pause as the two oldest non-drunks contemplated their next course of action.

"That SchneeMart we saw earlier was hiring—"

"NO."

Milly sighed. "It's the only hiring sign I saw, Adam. It's not like we've got much of a choice right now."

"Fine, then." Adam turned away. "YOU can work there. I'LL be headed back to the trashpile."

"Don' call 'er tha…" Lancer slurred. "She muh baby…"

"'Adam?' Misaka asks."

Adam looked over his shoulder.

"'What is friendship?' asks Misaka," Misaka said. "'I have received differing definitions and would like to know yours,' she elaborates, stating her case."

Adam firmly squashed down the miniscule part of him that was screaming _"ADORABLE!"_ and turned away again, walking in what he judged the direction of the RV. With a town only so small, how could they lose it, after all?

"Friendship," he said, "is not something that I am particularly concerned with at this point in time."

"Huh, We've been here for over an hour and no one's trying to kill us," Milly noted. Adam paused, thought over the preceding events, and realized that she was right.

"Don't worry," he replied, "I'm sure we'll tick someone off in the morning."

* * *

**Author's Note: And that was Chapter Two! Don't worry, something significant will happen sooner or later.**


	3. The Journey of a Thousand Miles

**Author's Note: Like a phoenix from the ashes… I… HAVE… RETURNED!**

**So, you may be wondering where I've been. Well, there was finals, my sister's graduation, and moving back home from college, then I spent a week doing pretty much nothing.**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to their owners. Which is a good thing.**

**The Journey of a Thousand Miles**

**Flying is Faster than Walking**

"Jerk," Milly grumbled under her breath, punching several buttons on the cash register with practiced ease. She cleared her throat and said "Your total is eighty thousand five hundred, sir."

"Thanks," replied her customer, who began hunting through his pockets.

Milly sighed, and turned to look at Misaka, who was standing nearby and watching her expectantly. As she had been for the past hour and a half. She hadn't started attracting flies yet, but a customer was staring at her, apparently thinking her an incredibly well-done display.

"Misaka, you should head back over to the RV," Milly ordered. "It's ten o'clock."

"'Are you sure?' asks Misaka, worried," Misaka said. "'I thought we were supposed to stay together,' she continues." The customer jumped back, stifling a shriek.

"I can watch out for myself," Milly reassured her. "You, on the other hand—here's your change—need to get your sleep."

"'I… I'm not sure that I remember where we parked,' Misaka confesses, embarrassed."

Milly laughed. "Then check where you think we parked first. It's you, Misaka," she added reassuringly, "You can handle anyone who tries anything. Now get moving, I've got a customer."

Misaka stepped away slowly. "'Alright,' says Misaka tremulously," she replied, and walked for the door with the same slow step.

"You'll be fine!" Milly called after her, and turned to the next customer.

* * *

The first thing that Lancer was aware of was a pounding headache. Opening his eyes made it worse, so he squeezed them shut. From the sound of rushing water, he figured that he was near a river, no wait, probably a mountain stream, but what was he doing last night… Oh right…

"I must be hung-over then," he said to no one in particular.

"You are indeed," Adam said, dryly. "Now help me find the RV."

Lancer cracked an eye open at that. "Wait, what?"

"Help me find the RV, I can't remember where we parked," Adam repeated.

"You're kidding, right? There's only like six or seven streets here. How could you lose the RV?" Lancer asked incredulously, opening his eyes and immediately regretting the decision. He squeezed them shut again, and wished for a glass of water.

"I don't want to talk about it," Adam groused. Lancer decided to try opening his eyes again, slowly this time. This time, the light was a little more bearable, just enough for him to keep his eyes open.

"Oh, we're on that bridge then. I can get my bearings from here," he said, attempting to pull himself to his feet. "Ow. Ow. Freakin' ow." Then he made a mess of the road directly in front of him.

"Good," Adam replied. "But once we get back, we are not mentioning this to anyone. Understand me?"

* * *

"'So you found your way back after all,' says Misaka, expressing her relief," Misaka said, lowering herself down from the loft. "'I was worried that you wouldn't come back,' she adds."

Lancer prayed for his hangover to depart him so that he could laugh his butt off at Adam. The Faunus stood, rigid, as if he had been struck by lightning. Finally, he turned and climbed out the door.

"I'm going to get something to eat," he said, and stalked away. Lancer tuned out Misaka's attempt to point out that there was, in fact, food in the refrigerator and set about getting himself a glass of water. Besides, it wasn't like Adam would get lost again.

… At least, Adam wasn't very likely to get lost. He didn't think.

"'Lancer? Can we talk,' asks Misaka hopefully," Misaka asked… well, hopefully.

Lancer gulped down his glass. "Maybe a bit later," he replied. "For now, I have a headache."

* * *

Adam stalked down the street. The immediate shame was less than if Milly had been there, that was true. However, that did not change the fact that Misaka would tell Milly as soon as asked, and the end result—Milly refusing to let him live it down—would be the same. How did he end up getting that impossibly lost, anyways? He was a faunus! His strength, speed, senses, were greater than any humans! He had trained under one of the greatest warriors in the history of the world! How could he get lost in a town that only had SEVEN STREETS?

He paused by one of the small stores that took up most of the streets and looked in the window. He immediately regretted it, looking directly into the eyes of a puppy that was small enough presently, but looked like it would eventually grow into some subspecies of wooly mastodon. Also, it was not cute. Not in the slightest.

Adam immediately went ramrod straight, spun on his heels, and walked away from the apparent petshop with it's puppy (that was not cute), and walked into the shop immediately next door. This shop turned out to be a small diner with the colors, smells, and noises that such establishments were expected to bear. Adam scanned around, and noticed in one corner a small stack of newspapers in one corner. He walked over, skimmed through the stack to find the paper of that particular date, and set about reading.

He'd barely covered the first page when the screaming started.

* * *

One ten-minute rewind and irritating scene break later, Milly was finally finishing her overnight shift at Schneemart.

"What is going on here?" she grumbled, scanning a jug of milk and shoving it into a plastic bag, "a night owl convention?" It did seem the most likely explanation for why so many people would be shopping at night. "Oh good lord, I hope I don't have bags under my eyes!"

The hand clicked over eight. Suddenly, Milly felt a spark of energy where none seemed to have been left before. The end had come. All that remained now was to change back, accept her meager pay, and head back over to the RV so that they could finally head out and she could sleep until the next morning.

Somewhere, whatever being there is that commands fate and irony took notice of this, and threw a wrench into the works. Such was their custom.

"Excuse me," a thin, reedy voice piped up. Milly whipped around, and saw nothing. Then she looked down to see an old man, bald except for an extraordinarily long Fu Manchu mustache, whose head barely came up to her stomach. "I require your services, young lady."

Milly held back a scathing reply and said as calmly as possible, "I'm sorry, but I just got off. Someone should be along to assist you shortly."

"Excuse me," the little old man repeated, "I require your services young lady."

Milly stared at him for a full fifteen seconds. "You cannot be serious," she growled.

"Excuse me—"

"Look!" Milly snapped. "I have just worked OVERNIGHT, from nine-thirty to eight, without a break OR a replacement, because everyone in this little mountain town is, for some reason, an insomniac! I am done! Finished! All I want is to get my pay, and go to sleep until tomorrow morning!" Her voice began to rise in pitch and volume. "Yeah, you have something you want dealt with! But right now? I'M TOO TIRED TO DEAL WITH IT! WAIT FOR MY REPLACEMENT!"

The old man simply looked at her. She threw her hands in the air in disgust, and stalked away.

"What was his problem?" Milly grumbled, yanking her black t-shirt over her head. A part of her missed the Ashford Academy uniform—flattering, and worked VERY well with her hair—but she had left that behind when she had left Ashford.

"Who did he think he was?" she hissed under her breath. The manager, a thirtyish man who had mastered the subtle art of looking like a manga protagonist, raised an eyebrow at her complaints, and handed her an envelope filled with five thousand glorious Lien, which she took from him gratefully and excused herself from his presence.

"I'm done with customers! Just done!" she grumbled, stomping out the sliding door. The impending relief and good mood from finally—finally—finishing a long night of work had been smashed to pieces by a little man with a stupid mustache.

The unidentified being that held power over fate and irony smirked, and patted itself on the back.

Milly ground to a halt to keep from walking directly into a giant robot. She looked up, and up, and up, to see that the machine was at least thirty feet high, and that the little man who had irked her previously was looking down at her from the open cockpit (Milly immediately ruled out any and all professionally constructed mecha and most amateur models as its design).

"You should have provided me service," the man's voice, amplified through a large speaker that seemed to be situated on the robot's chest, rang out. It's massive, three-fingered hand closed into a fist, and the robot swung downwards with a hammer blow. Milly, experiencing the phenomenon of "oh dust oh dust I don't want to die," leapt out of the way, her body suddenly realizing that it did, in fact, have enough energy to avoid being crushed.

Milly immediately regretted returning to the RV and leaving her pistols so that she could work without any awkward questions being asked, but there wasn't much time for that. She spun on her heels, and began running for where she was certain they had parked.

That of course, was the robot's cue to raise its other hand and transform it into a laser cannon.

_They should make you get a giant mecha licence,_ Milly lamented silently, rounding a corner and dodging the intense beam of focused light as best she could. This, of course, would be about when the aforementioned screaming started.

In a small café that sat adjacent to a pet store where the puppy in the window was not cute, Adam rolled the newspaper he was reading up and shoved it in his pocket, then charged out the door just in time to run slam into Milly. This sent them both sprawling—although thankfully not in an awkward position that could be relentlessly drawn on for comedy—and the giant robot rounded the corner.

"Where did that thing come from?" Adam exclaimed. Thirty feet, while on the smaller side for giant robots, was still THIRTY FREAKING FEET, which was enough to stand strangely missing head and shoulders above the buildings that surrounded them (except for a single bell tower that was probably meant to be a tourist attraction of some kind). Adam was thus fairly miffed that he hadn't noticed it in an absurdly small town.

"Angry customer," Milly replied, already clambering to her feet. Adam, in the process of doing the same, paused briefly.

"I suppose that makes sense," he began, but was cut off by a laser beam shattering the ground a mere two feet in front of him.

* * *

"Friendship?" Lancer asked, silently thanking whoever it was that came up with the concept of heroic spirits. His hangover was far from gone, but it had decreased sufficiently that he could drive and converse without significant discomfort. He and Misaka were currently sitting across from each other at the small table in the RV's cabin.

"'Yes,' Misaka answers," Misaka replied. "'The network has received several contradictory answers, and is trying to formulate a single definition,' she clarifies, hopefully." She had cocked her head to one side. Lancer wondered if it was something her little collective did as a whole, or if it was a quirk unique to the individual clone.

"Okay, friendship friendship friendship…" Lancer said, stretching his arms above his head and lowering them to rest on the table. "Well, I can tell you that a friend is someone who sticks with you through thick and thin. They fight at your side, and they don't let you give up even when you most want to. They're strong where you're weak, and no matter how much you fight they always come back to you. So, I guess that friendship is whatever makes you want to be like that."

"'Your description has much in common with several previously discussed definitions,' says Misaka, unsure whether or not Lancer's explanation has helped," Miaka said curtly (which was the well-nigh emotionless clone equivalent of grousing).

"Well don't be so grumpy about it," Lancer replied, "I only—what the heck is that noise?"

Misaka stood up, and walked over to the small robe ladder that was the only way in and out of the loft (Lancer had always meant to install an alternate way up, but had never gotten around to it). She clambered up, and began rooting around. In less than a minute, she was dropping down from the loft holding a large, metal case which she opened to reveal a disassembled sniper rifle. As she set about constructing the apparatus, Lancer stood, muscle shirt and baggy cargo shorts vanishing to reveal skintight blue and silver armor. He extended a hand, and Gae Bolg appeared, hovering in place long enough for him to seize it out of midair.

As Misaka finished with her rifle, Lancer walked to the door and quietly pushed it open. He stepped out, and began searching the area for the problem. Having cleared the area immediately around him, he looked up to notice the massive robot punching the ground at its feet. He paused, wagered the likelihood that Adam and Milly were not at that immediate location, and found the chances not worth mention.

"Typical," he said.

"'I don't follow,' says Misaka, worried at how victory will be attained," Misaka admitted.

"That's an easy one, kid," Lancer replied. "Just circle around."

"'What about Lancer and Milly?' Misaka asks, fearing for her friends," Misaka asked.

"Don't worry," Lancer grinned. "I'll make sure they're alive. How else would I be able to rub this in their faces?

* * *

Adam was gradually becoming more and more frustrated with this opponent. If anything, he found it remarkably similar to the "spider droid" that he and Blake had faced before she had betrayed the White Fang and left. He would have used his semblance already if given the chance. Unlike Blake, though, Milly did not have a weapon on her at the moment—FOOT—or an opening to attempt an attack on the robot.

This left Adam and Milly in the singularly uncomfortable position of targets, if very difficult to hit ones.

Milly rolled under a shot from the laser arm, skidded to a halt, allowed the shot to pass her by, leapt backwards to escape a shot that hit directly where she had been standing. Adam paused and began focusing, drawing on his semblance, and then had to dodge to evade an arm telescoping with incredible speed. He attempted to strike at it, but whatever the robot was constructed of, Wilt simply rang off of it.

It was no use. Milly, while skilled for roughly two years' experience, still wasn't on a level where she could defeat a robot easy as you please. Adam's more powerful non-sword skills all required some space for him to unleash. Through some random chance, they had run across some no-name, low level opponent who somehow—SOMEHOW—had exactly the right weapons and abilities to outmatch them.

Adam doubted the little man with the ridiculous mustache even knew who he was fighting.

He whipped his sword around to deflect a laser blast, jumped up to evade a kick, landed right on the metallic leg.

He saw an opening. Took it.

Jumping off the leg, he shot high, high into the air, well above the silly little mad scientist with his silly little OPEN AIR COCKPIT, leaned forward, mentally groaned as a shell exploded in front of him, created a shockwave that threw him backwards, away from the robot. The shell did more than that, creating a high shriek that had Milly cry out and cover her ears, freeze for a moment, brief but still a moment too long. Adam saw the laser arm arc around, glowing with energy. He tucked his knees in, rolled backward, he wouldn't be in time.

He wasn't fast enough.

Lancer was.

The Servant of the Spear was suddenly in the middle of the fray, dragging Milly out of the way, whipping his spear around to parry a second shot, leaping away gracefully.

"KEEP HIM BUSY," Lancer shouted, jumping away again. Adam paused for a moment, wondering why Lancer didn't simply use his Noble Phantasm, was the opponent who was beating them, how was this stupid little man not worth the effort? But it sounded like Lancer had some kind of idea, so Adam huffed and braced himself for another round of dodging.

With Lancer joining their side, the fight began to even out. Lancer's presence meant that Adam could charge some of his moves up, and soon the robot was sporting gashes down its arms and legs from his and Lancer's counterattacks. However, he and Milly were running out of energy, and the Lancer, while fresh, was still limiting himself to non-killing blows for some reason. The chances of a mutual kill, however unlikely, were becoming more and more prominent wait what the heck?

The robot stumbled, fell to its knees, and the three of them were running, fleeing as it collapsed on the ground, spilling its pilot onto the ground. Lancer slowed to a halt, and waved in the direction of the bell tower.

"Misaka?" Adam asked, already knowing the answer. Misaka wasn't allowed live ammo, but she had gotten her hands on some very useful stun bullets. It would explain why the mustache midget was unconscious instead of, well, dead.

"Who else?" Lancer grinned. "And now, Ladies and Gentleman," he continued, turning to examine street lined with nice, quaint little shops with neat, not very quaint at all carbon scoring and holes in them, "I do believe we've outstayed our welcome?"

* * *

"I still don't understand why you didn't just hit him with Gae Bolg," Adam pointed out softly. "Kill him right there, be done with the whole thing. He shoved his hand into his pocket, then paused. He pulled it out, producing the newspaper that he had inadvertently taken with him. Briefly considering what to do with it, he opened it up and settled down to read.

He and Lancer had taken up their customary positions, in the passenger and drivers' seats respectively. Milly had promptly curled up on one of the benches and fallen asleep, Misaka sitting across from her.

"I didn't want to kill him," Lancer replied.

"How come?" Adam asked.

"There's some kid out there with this whole sense of justice and values and junk," Lancer said reflectively. "I don't really like the guy, but I owe him my life. Thought I'd give it a shot,"

Adam raised an eyebrow (we think), and went back to his newspaper. There was silence again for roughly thirty seconds.

"I think we're going to have to go to Japan," Adam said, checking the name on the paper again to be sure. But there it was, black and white.

Ruben K. Ashford

Ashford Academy Headmaster Dies at 75

**Author's Note: And thus we start the first story arc! Now watch as we start the long, ponderous journey to Japan, with Grimm! And bad plans! And Pocky! And probably none of those things.**

**Reviews a happy author make!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: Well, here we are. Another update. I hope that this is acceptable character development.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to who they belong to.**

**Chapter Four**

**I'm Already Running Out of Stupid Titles?**

Milly could tell something was wrong the moment she lifted her head off the table.

Lancer's voice had been raised, indicating what was probably an argument with Adam. The moment Milly's eyes had fallen upon the two of them, he had gone deathly silent. Adam hadn't retorted, only ceased any speaking along with him. That wasn't right. Adam and Lancer were the type who stood on their points until they realized that the RV was topping two-hundred miles an hour and parts were beginning to fall off—again.

Great. She'd only just woken up, and they were already in trouble again.

"What is it now?" She grumbled, reaching down to her pocket and fishing for her compact. "Are we being invaded by that squid person again?"

"I'm fairly sure that there's only one of her," Lancer replied, a schooled calmness in his voice. With a sinking feeling, Milly realized that this wasn't their normal brand of trouble. Not aliens, and squid-people and maniacal scientists.

"What happened," she said slowly, trying to stand.

"Milly, it's—"

"Is it Misaka? Did something happen to her? Some kind of clone thing?" Milly was vaguely aware of her voice rising, becoming shriller. She didn't care.

"'Stop yelling,' says Misaka," Misaka complained, giving what slightly resembled a glower from the loft. Completely fine. Milly looked up at her with a pang of relief and flopped back down at the table.

Huh. Misaka climbing down from the loft, sun rising from Adam's side of the car, probably meant that she had slept the day and most of the night away there at the table. HHHHH Hadn't even used the bathroom (she sometimes suspected that Lancer's RV was secretly some kind of prototype tour bus). Feeling peckish, too—

"Your grandfather died," Adam said, tossing a newspaper to her.

—wait, what?

"Wait, what?" she asked, slowly turning to look up at the faunus.

"Section A, Page 12," he replied. "Died of old age at 75."

"… Oh," she said.

There weren't many ways to react to that.

"'Do you require a hug?' asks Misaka, as the Network indicates that physical contact in conjunction with –" Misaka attempted, but Milly cut her off.

"I need to use the bathroom," she said, standing and walking as fast as possible to the rear of the RV.

* * *

Milly wasn't sure how much later it was that the RV pulled to a stop. She had just been sitting on the floor of the bathroom, alternately remembering and softly weeping. But suddenly, the soft rumbling that indicated the motion of the vehicle had died down, and they were not moving.

Then someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, Ashford," said Lancer. "I think we two need to have a little chat."

"I'm fine," she sniffled, trying to pull herself to her feet. Oh hey, her leg had fallen asleep.

"I know," he said. "I'll be waiting outside."

Milly paused at that. She thought about it for what seemed like ten minutes but was probably only two. Then she waited another few seconds to let her leg wake up all the way. Then she stood, slid the door open, and walked down the length of the RV, not even acknowledging Adam sitting in the passenger seat with his now retrieved newspaper, or Misaka fiddling with the radio, and opened the door.

Lancer was indeed waiting. He had chosen a little roadside restaurant that was improbably sitting in the middle of nowhere. If Milly had been there on another day, she'd have found the view to die for. Today, she barely paid it any heed.

"You going to be alright?" he asked her. "You're a pretty lousy fighter as is, and I'd hate for you to get that pretty face messed up next town we drive through."

"That's low," she grumbled in return.

They paused for a second.

"Well?" Lancer asked.

"I'm fine, it's fine," she replied. "This isn't a movie, I'm not going to go into a funk for a week."

"That's good."

Another pause.

"Did you get along with your grandfather very well?" he asked finally. Milly regarded him incredulously.

"What, are you trying to psychoanalyze me?" she asked. Lancer raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"No, no, just asking," he replied.

Milly sighed. "He… wasn't bad. Didn't particularly dote. I didn't have to try too hard for Student President, but I wasn't allowed to slack off in class or anything. Never got in any great trouble if I didn't let a prank go too far. Kind of like a father, but older."

"I see," Lancer nodded.

"He was just there, for my whole life," she went on, words simply rushing out. "He'd give me candy, and these incredible Christmas presents—I actually had a pony when I was five, did you know?—but at the same time, he was just distant, kind of preoccupied, a little out of touch. I always thought it was just him running the school, but we never had quite that dynamic that grandparents are supposed to have. It's like—"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Lancer replied. "Wow, girl."

There was silence again. It stretched out, the two of them just standing there in the parking lot, thinking. It was the kind of all-encompassing silence that you get when seeing a natural wonder for the first time, or when a movie has just left you breathless, or some other comparison that just won't come to mind no matter how hard you try. Finally, Lancer broke it.

"So, we're going to try to be in Japan in a week's time," he said. Milly blinked. Hadn't been expecting that.

Japan?

"No! I can't do that!" she hissed. Not Japan! Never again!

"Why not?" Lancer asked.

"Why not? Don't you remember the other day, we were trading stories?" she asked frantically.

"You gave us some half-baked vagaries," Lancer deadpanned.

"I said that I got in trouble with the wrong people!" Milly replied. "Very bad people, Lancer! Very bad people! Tear your heart out and roast it on a spit kind of evil!" She began to wave her arms around for emphasis.

"Ashford!" Lancer snapped. "You've got to go. He's blood, you owe him that much." Milly looked at him, then hesitantly shook her head.

"I really can't go back, Lancer," she said. "I'm serious about these guys."

"So?" Lancer gave her a cocky grin. "We can definitely take them. Even you don't suck as bad as you did a year ago."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Milly said dryly.

"Look, Milly," Lancer said. "This is something you have to do. For your grandfather, for your family, for you. I know what it's like to go through life with regrets, and I guarantee you that if you don't go to this, you WILL regret it."

Milly drooped. To be honest, she did feel the need to go. But her problems weren't going to go away, they were going to jump on her the moment she set foot across the border and make sure she was very, very dead. Then they were going to set her on fire, just to make sure. And then, they would kill her again, to make sure that they were sure.

Lancer grinned at her again. "Hey, we've got problems too. Must be what keeps us together. A bunch of people with problems, running away from them as best we can."

"You realize that you're including yourself in that group, right?"

"Nah, I got a mission," Lancer replied, folding his arms behind his head. I just got to figure out how to get it started… what is that?"

Milly paused, and gave him an odd look. He was right, though… there was a sound, faint as it was, of music…

"I don't believe it!" Lancer suddenly growled, and charged back in the door of the RV. Milly stared after him a moment, then decided that it would at least be interesting to watch and followed him.

Lancer was kneeling in front of the radio. Adam had propped his feet up on the dashboard and buried his face in his newspaper. Misaka was sitting at the table, reading an old shoujo manga that she carried with her for some reason.

"What are you doing?" he shouted at Adam, hammering wildly at the buttons on the radio. "I told you once, I told you a thousand times! NO! messing with the radio!"

Adam rolled his eyes. "You listen to too much U2 anyways," he said, lowering his feet from the dashboard at Lancer's glare.

"That's no excuse! Never touch the radio! Especially not to listen to some opening from some anime!"

"Wasn't me," Lancer replied.

"NANA MIZUKI IS BOSS!" Misaka roared.

Silence.

Everyone slowly turned to stare at Misaka.

"… Says Misaka, stating her opinion in music," the clone finished solemnly.

Silence.

Everyone stared at Misaka.

"Okay," said Adam finally.

"Just… My ride, remember?" Lancer added lamely. "No changing the channel."

Misaka gave him her cocked-head look. "'Understood,' says Misaka, updating her knowledge pertaining to the situation."

"Thanks," Lancer replied. "Milly's alright,"

"Oh, good," Adam replied absently. "Suppose we'd better get going, then."

"We're not seriously going to Japan, are we?" asked Milly.

"Yes, we are," Lancer replied.

"Oh. Well, okay then. Can't be late for the funeral. Should probably call, find out when it is."

"'That would be an efficient course of action,' Misaka agrees."

The doors to the odd-looking RV shut. The engine started. The RV drove forward, turned out of the parking lot, turned down the road and set out for the latest adventure.

"North is the other way."

"I don't care, I don't want to visit that town twice. That usually ends with the townspeople trying to kill us."

"We still need to go north!"

"I'm heading farther south until I can find another way north!"

"THAT MAKES NO SENSE!"

"EYES ON THE ROAD!"

"'My eyes are flashing before my eyes,' observes Misaka—"

"HAVE YOU NO FAITH?"

"CAAAAAAR!"

This one was going to be rough.

**Author's Note: So, here we go. Next time, we stop at another small town, one that has quite the Grimm problem.**

**Well, we should. That actually would have been this chapter, but the image of Lancer and Milly chatting about stuff grabbed on and wouldn't let go.**

**Also, if you read, please please please review. Things you liked, things you disliked, anything that I can use to hone my writing and improve the story.**


	5. Bad Ideas

**Author's Note: Okay, before I write this, I'd like to get something out. I need reviews. I'm writing this for fun, true, but I have another purpose: I'm trying to improve my writing for another project. Without reviews, I can't find out what I need to improve and what I need to keep in my writing. So if you read this, please please PLEASE review and tell me what you liked and what you didn't.**

**Now that that's over, let's get down to Chapter 5.**

**Disclaimer: I own no one but OCs, who are all based rather heavily off of characters that someone else owns in the first place. You'll probably be able to tell who.**

**Bad Ideas**

**They're Dangerously Common**

There is no wake up call, Adam thought, like having a giant Nevermore sit on your RV.

Such an event is somewhat less dramatic than, say, having the giant Nevermore sit on YOU, but think about it for a minute. The moment it lands, the RV buckles under its weight. There is a shriek of metal, the RV—if it is in motion—slows or is knocked off course, throwing you from side to side in your sleeping place. You wake up, confused, startled, and shove your head out the window. There, you see a giant bird thing, looking down at you, with an air that says "ooh, breakfast."

Also, if it sat directly on you, you wouldn't have much of a chance to wake up. But that's a fairly minor detail.

"What is THAT doing up there?" he hissed at Lancer. Milly, clutching her head, rose to her feet as best she could.

"You're gonna have to be more specific," Lancer replied. "Gotta keep my eyes on the road."

"There is a Nevermore the size of the RV—if not bigger—sitting on the roof," Adam snapped. Lancer raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get so snippy," he said. "I customized this thing myself. It can take a lot more—"

"'Help' says Misaka, trying to free herself from the loft." Misaka said. Adam turned to look up at the loft—the metal roof was being crushed down, trapping Misaka there. He glared at Lancer. Lancer groaned

"Don't cut anything," he pleaded. Adam was already springing into action. Clambering out of the seat, he leapt up toward the ceiling, and grabbed the edge of the loft. The structure in question creaked dangerously and buckled. Then he felt another body slam up against his, saw Milly's hands clasp the edge alongside his own, and the structure gave way, tearing away from the ceiling and spilling Misaka down on the both of them. The case that contained Misaka's rifle crashed down beside them.

The three lay there for several seconds. Then they heard a long, low howl.

"Beowolf," Milly said.

"Big Beowolf," Lancer agreed. In a flash of light, Gae Bolg formed in his hand. Lancer quickly muttered its name and threw it out his window. The RV was rocked by an explosion, and a creak of metal and surprised squawk announced the unseating of the Nevermore that had rudely awakened them. "Not anymore." The spear reformed beside him.

Now there was a loud roar, shaking the four to their bones. A second later, they found out why.

Four claws punched through the ceiling like tin foil. Lancer began zigzagging in an attempt to throw it off, and the claws jerked back and forth with a sound not unlike nails on a chalkboard (in the case that the chalkboard was an armored car and the nail was a well-nigh indestructible Bowie knife… Actually, that probably wouldn't sound anything like nails on a chalkboard. Let's just write it up to a generic metallic screech).

"MY RIIIIDE" screamed Lancer.

"So much for taking more," Adam muttered. "Misaka, get your gun."

"'On it,' says Misaka, complying," Misaka replied, snapping open the case and fitting pieces together.

"Where're my guns?" Milly demanded, patting her blouse.

"Somewhere they can't go off by accident, I should hope!" Lancer shouted. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the RV to a screaming halt, and a giant lion-like Grimm was thrown on the road in front of them. He gunned the engine, and the RV rammed the monster, plowing through it like tissue paper.

"What's going on here?" Adam asked as Misaka finished putting her weapon together and started for the front seat. Milly was beginning to open cupboards with increasing desperation. Adam cast about, and reached under the driver's seat. "Got them!"

"How should I know?" Lancer said. "These things just came out of nowhere!"

"Then find a side road!" Milly said, grabbing the pair of pistols from Adam and checking to see if they were loaded, ready to go. Adam wasn't sure why. They were always loaded, and according to Lancer it had taken over a week to convince her not to leave the safeties off all the time.

"Then if someone could check the map, I'd be much obliged!" Lancer growled. Something roared, and he briefly surveyed the mirrors. "Tyrannosaurus? 'Least it's not a Grimm." Adam and Milly gave him an incredulous look.

"What do you mean Tyrannosaurus? That—"

"'Got it,' says Misaka, holding the map aloft in triumph," Misaka announced, giving the map a half-hearted wave. "'Misaka thinks,' she amends, realizing that she is unaware as to her location.

"You were supposed to be sniping the Deathstalker!" Adam snapped.

"'Deathstalker?' asks Misaka."

"GIVE ME THE MAP AND LOOK!"

"'But you're driving,' points out Misak—"

"JUST GIVE IT!"

Misaka handed Lancer the map.

"Okay, okay," Lancer hissed, spreading the map out on the driving wheel.

"Are you insane?" Adam asked.

"'Oh, that Deathstalker,' notes Misaka, wondering how she missed the twenty-five foot long scorpion closing in."

"Shoot it! Okay, I think I've got where we are… Northbound… There's a cave system not too far from here!"

"That's great," Milly snapped, "Now look at THE ROAAAD!"

Lancer swerved, and evaded the charging Beowolf, and Milly nearly lost her grip on her guns. "Okay, okay…" he said. "We'll reach the exit in a minute or two, so keep a lookout for Exit 21, okay?"

Something roared.

"BAD REXIE!" Lancer shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Get to the front," Adam said to Milly.

"Right," she agreed, shoving her guns into a pair of hidden pockets.

The RV rocked forward, and suddenly stayed that way. Misaka leaned out the window (Milly leapt forward and grabbed the back of her shirt), aimed, and fired off a shot. Something roared, and Milly began to fire again and again, with increasing speed (Adam figured that this was her equivalent of desperation). Finally, the rear of the RV slammed down to the ground. Lancer groaned.

"'Sorry,' says Misaka, attempting to—"

"Misaka," Adam said tiredly, "Just don't."

Suddenly, Milly yanked Misaka away from the window, fast enough to prevent injury to the girl, but not fast enough to prevent her rifle being snagged in the yellowed teeth of a spectacularly large reptile. The weapon was torn out of Misaka's hands as the two fell back against Lancer.

"'Tyrannosaurus,' Misaka gapes," Misaka said as calmly as the next person. Milly whipped out a gun, and fired. The bullet ricocheted pitifully off of the dinosaur's pebbly skin.

"We need a new plan," Milly said tremulously.

"It's too close for Gae Bolg," Lancer replied. "I'm not seeing many—"

"EXIT 21!"Adam roared. Lancer threw the RV into a hard right, knocking the Tyrannosaur's head aside and probably causing the beast to fall over comically, and hit the gas with a screech of tires.

"The caves will be on our left," Lancer announced. "Let's hope they don't follow."

"Come to think about it, why are cave systems on that map?" Adam asked.

"I don't know, I just bought the blame thing! Still comes in handy every so often," Lancer replied.

"Just get us in those caves," Milly grumbled.

Three children sat side by side, staring at the opening to the massive cave system they called home—that the entire village made their place in. It was one of the few constants they were raised with—never go outside without someone with you, because the Grimm (constant number two) would eat you. Every month, a "supply team" was selected and sent out in the old worn out truck that was the only vehicle anyone there owned (constant number three) and they would return with bread, milk, news, and stories.

So the children wondered at the stories, played, and every so often sat as close to the mouth of the cave as they dared, wondering what was out there.

"I HATE GRIMM!"

"We KNOW, Eric! Geesh!"

Occasionally, they did that too.

Today, however, their normal routine was foiled by an RV that looked like it had been shredded—and hadn't looked that great to begin with—which came hurtling through the mouth and screamed to a stop right beside them.

"… Huh?" asked one of them, a boy with a blond pageboy-cut and blue eyes.

"I don't really know," said the only girl of the group, just a bit taller than the others—as is often the case in children just about to hit puberty—with black hair that hung halfway down her back.

"I—" said a boy with brown hair and green eyes who had the look of a shonen protagonist about him.

"I swear Erik, if you say 'I hate grimm,' I'll smack your face!" hissed the blond boy.

"I wasn't going to say that," Eric replied.

"Oh. Go ahead then."

"I think that they might have been chased here," Eric explained. "Look at those claw marks."

The window of the RV rolled down and a brunette girl stuck her head out. "'Is everyone alright?' asks Misaka, concerned for the health and safety of strangers like a good little girl," she said.

"Uh?" the girl asked.

A blonde woman stuck her head out of the window alongside the girl. "Oh hey, could we hide out in your cave for a while?" A hand reached out, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her back in.

"Uh?" the girl repeated.

"You okay, Maya?"

"Fine, Eric. Just… I'm fine."

"'Oh dear,' says Misaka, realizing the scope of the children's state. 'Don't worry,' she continues, hoping to sooth their fear, 'Misaka can act as a medic if necessary.'" Misaka exclaimed, opening the door and jumping out. The three children stared vacantly at her.

Then the blond boy collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach and giggling. In seconds, this had risen to a full-throated laugh. Moments later, Eric had joined in, and Maya followed.

"'It's worse than Misaka thought,' says Misaka, horrified," Misaka said, opening the door.

"No… no… I'm fine…" the blond boy grinned. "What are you, travelers?"

"I guess you could say that," said a blue-haired man who walked around the opposite side of the RV.

"I'm… Owen. Come on… I'll introduce you to the elders."

The man and the girl looked at each other. "Elders?"

"Says Misaka, demonstrating confusion."

"So… You've lived here your entire life?" Milly asked. The odd group had abandoned the RV (Lancer had to be dragged away from his "baby") and was now working its way deeper into the caves, where the children said their village was located.

"More or less," Owen confirmed. "Dad says the village was moved down here about sixty years ago. Maya's the only one of us who was born outside."

"'How did you come to live here?' asks Misaka, trying to make conversation," Misaka said.

"Does she always do that?" Owen asked, giving the older girl an odd look.

"Pretty much," Milly agreed. "But that's a pretty good question. How did you end up in here?"

"I don't really remember," Maya replied. "I was five when I came here."

"You're ten now," Adam pointed out. "It wasn't all that long ago for you." Maya glared at him.

"I SAID I don't remember much," she replied.

"Is that so?" Adam asked.

"Adam!" Milly snapped, "She's ten!"

"Assassins have been younger than—"

SMACK

"Anyways," Milly continued as Adam nursed his bruised cheek, "Do you remember anything about—" Lancer cleared his throat. When Milly glanced over at him, he nodded at Eric. The boy was clenching his fists and had lowered his gaze to the ground at his feet. "—actually, never mind. I guess I don't need to know."

Lancer pretended not to notice, but he could easily pick up the quick look of thanks that Maya flashed him.

"'MIsaka supposes that the village relocated due to the abnormal quantity of large Gri—'" Misaka began.

"NOOOO!" Owen and Maya screamed. Too late.

Eric breathed in deeply, grit his teeth. "I…" he growled. "Hate…" he added, louder.

The small, underground village was a peaceful place. Everyone knew each other and they tended to be, if not friends, then somewhat good-natured rivals. Sure, tempers rose every once in a while, and people complained when there wasn't as much food, but they were always able to get enough that everyone got just the right amount of food to last the month out. The only thing that really broke the peace with any consistency was—

"GRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMM!"

One random villager looked at the other. "Looks like Eric's coming in early today."

"Yeah," his friend agreed. "I wonder why."

"'Ow,' says Misaka, wondering why her ears are not bleeding," Misaka said in the same absent tone she always used. Milly and Lancer uncovered their own ears. Adam writhed on the ground, clutching his head.

"What the heck was that?" He cried.

"That's why we don't use _that word_," Owen said carefully, "around Eric." Eric breathed deeply, trying to regain his breath.

"Aaanyways…" Milly said, deciding to change the subject, "Why didn't those people sixty years ago just leave? It doesn't make much sense to cut yourselves off from humanity like—"

"Because the village of Sina is our home," a voice rang out, "and we refused to abandon it to the ravages of age and nature."

A man stepped out of the shadows before them. He was slightly taller than average, and had no hair except for his bushy mustache and small, pointed beard.

"Hey, Elder," Eric said. "Some travelers just showed up. They've got a thing like Mr. Irving's truck, but its waay bigger!"

Lancer sighed. "We ran into a few technical problems driving through this area. Mind if we brake here a day or two to get things working again?"

"Of course you may," the Elder said. "Whether you intend to stay or not, all are welcome in our village of Sina."

"It's amazing what you've done with the engine!" the loud, brown-haired lady…

Lancer leaned down to the short, grumpy man. "That's a girl, right?" he asked.

The man gave him a sidelong look. "Obviously," he grunted.

"Okay, good," Lancer said. "And thanks, Miss, but that's not really the issue." He sighed, walking around to the back of the RV. "It looks like whatever it was that got us from behind—I'd say probably an Ursa, but there's no way of telling—got it's claws into the chassis. And accounting for the damage done to the roof…" He sighed again. "AT least they didn't break the wireless. This is going to be an all-nighter at least. Probably two days. How are you people doing for scrap metal?"

"Oh, we've got a lot, most of our old farming vehicles are broken down and we don't need them anymo—wait," the woman said, staring at Lancer, who began to feel like he had said something wrong. "Two days? For a torn-out chassis? You'd have to—"

"I'm very good with this kind of thing," Lancer cut her off, puffing his chest out with pride. "Actually, there's not a part on this vehicle that I haven't replaced or altered. Two days is nothing if I put my mind to it."

"Get into a lot of accidents, don't you?" the short fellow deadpanned. Lancer sighed and un-puffed.

"Something like that, yes," he said sadly.

"Well, we can provide the material for you," the woman said with an air of finality, "But you'll have to make your own parts, and—"

"Of course I can," Lancer grinned, "Just who do you take me for?"

"I don't know. Who am I supposed to take you for?"

"Forget it. Let's just head back to the village, gather that metal up."

"Orion? Who's Orion?" Milly asked.

The little girl glared at her. "Orion! It's like a secret police or something!" she complained. "Don't you know anything?"

"If it's a secret police," Milly pointed out, "why would people know about it?"

"'That is incorrect, actually,' says Misaka, correcting her new acquaintance," Misaka explained. "'Orion, if it exists, is supposedly a special governmental unit of Vale, assembled for the purpose of espionage and covert warfare,' she adds. 'It is quite different from the duties of a police force,' she concludes with an air of smug satisfaction."

The two stared at her.

"'What? Misaka can know things,' says Misaka indignantly."

"You don't sound indignant."

Adam rolled his eyes. The village seemed very much like any other he had been to but for two minor details: it was underground, and people did not seem to come through often. Fortunately, he had been able to find a safe spot—

"Get down off my roof, ya whack job!"

—By which he meant that he had found a place that they couldn't reach him from, abandoning the girls to the inquiries of the residents. Still, the man shouting at him was annoying, so he leapt into the air, dropping down neatly on the roof of another house across the street (they had streets and houses in their little underground villages. Adam thought they would have simply carved their way into the walls of the cave, but it made sense, considering that they wouldn't want to bring their new home down on their heads).

A hidden door on the roof flipped up, and that boy—Eric?—popped out. He walked steadily across the roof to stand next to Adam.

"Hmm?" Adam hummed, raising an eyebrow.

"This is my house," Eric replied, dropping down to sit cross-legged.

"Really."

"Yeah, mine and Maya's."

"Maya? You live with your—"

"She's my sister!" Eric snapped, glaring at Adam.

"… Your sister?"

"She's adopted."

"Ah."

Silence for a few blessed seconds.

Then someone on the ground caught Adam's faunus-sharp ears asking Milly how they dodged the Grimm. Beside him, Eric stiffened and drew in a breath. To be honest, Adam was impressed that the boy could hear the word.

"I! HATE! GRI—"

"SO WHAT?" Adam screamed, covering his ears.

He screamed. The child, the pathetic, driveless, human child, was pushing him, breaking his cool. He had to get away before he did something that wouldn't go away—

"So what?" Eric asked icily. "So what?"

"So what!" Adam replied. "You hate Grimm? Alright! We get it! Now what are you going to DO about it? When you grow a backbone, actually fight for something? Then maybe I'll be impressed, just a little! But you sit around, complaining, that's useless. That's the worst kind of useless in the world! So just… stay out of my way!" He jumped again, putting as much distance between himself and the most annoying boy he had ever known as he could.

And thus it was that Lancer, working out a method of replacing his damaged chassis with the new, reinforced version, found Eric trying to sneak out of the cave with a sword that he had obviously never held, much less wielded before.

The most frustrating thing, Lancer felt, was that they hadn't been able to move the RV down closer to the village. The roof had dropped too low in places, high enough for the open-top jeep that that Irving person owned and maintained, but not high enough for the RV. Therefore, any repairs to the RV would require the parts to be constructed or tooled in the village, and then dragged back to the cave mouth.

So there he was, flat on his back under the RV, wondering how he was going to get the whole thing put together THIS time, when he heard a scraping noise and a voice muttering something about "show him." Lancer was not one to disregard this, because it usually culminated in something bad happening to him. He wriggled out from under, and popped up to see that boy… Eret? Eric? Walking past pulling a sword that was decorative enough that it was probably some kind of wall decoration that, by his strained expression, was far too heavy for him to even drag behind him.

"… Huh." Lancer said. "What're you doing, kid?"

Eric—yeah, that had to be it—glared at him. "I'm going to prove that I'm not useless!" He snapped, although he was panting so hard that it was difficult to tell.

Lancer gave him the mother of all blank looks. "… Huh?" he repeated.

"Your friend called me a coward! I'm gonna prove I'm not!" Eric said, dropping the sword and shaking his fist at Lancer, who was privately grateful that there is no such thing as a ten-year-old head of state.

"Okay then," he said out loud, "What did Adam say to you exactly."

Eric's face fell. "He told me… that I was useless. That I didn't have a backbone… But I'm not! I need to—"

"Okay, I think I've got a pretty good idea of what he said to you," Lancer cut him off. "As I recall, you're the one who hates the—No," he paused, placing a hand over Eric's mouth, "don't go waking up the town. As I was saying, you hate them, right?" Eric gave a venomous nod.

"Okay. I've heard Adam give a speech like that one or two times. He's basically saying, it doesn't matter how much you hate something if you don't do anything about it."

Eric gave him a blank look.

"Okay… Say you find a toy that you really want, but you can't afford. You'd complain about it, right? Do everything you can to get at it?"

Eric paused, considering this, and nodded slowly.

"What if you didn't? What if you just spent all day, every day just telling people how much you wanted that toy? Don't you think that'd get old really fast?"

Eric nodded again, a little faster this time. Good, he seemed to be getting it.

"Well," Lancer said with a calculated degree of finality, "That's what Adam dislikes. You hate you-know-what, but you don't do anything about it. Understand?"

"What _would_ I do about it?" Eric asked.

"Well you wouldn't start by getting yourself killed by an Ursa the size of my baby here," Lancer replied. "I'd say that you'd want to look into a Huntsman's School. Signal is supposed to be good, though there's more than one smaller academy, and solo Huntsmen sometimes take on apprentices. So first thing you do is get yourself into really good shape. You'll want to study, too—those schools usually require a lot of academic work." He crossed his arms behind his head. "You'll want to sleep on it—heck, you should be in bed in the first place. What if your family—"

"PERVERT"

There was a loud, solid thunk and fiery hot pain shot through Lancer's head. He was vaguely aware of collapsing to the ground, and noticing Maya standing behind him with a shovel. Eric turned and started yelling at her, but Lancer's ears were ringing so hard it was impossible to tell what.

"Mean… swing…" he managed, before everything went dark.

**Author's Note: So there you have it. Next chapter, our hero-type characters set out from the village of Sina, determined to get back on schedule for their journey.**

**Adam's speech here was originally meant to be more comprehensible and snap Milly out of her last-chapter funk, but I couldn't figure out how it would work, and an idea for a different scene got me from behind, et cetera. Looking back, a good part of it was probably me trying to chew myself out for my atrociously myopic job-hunting.**


	6. Falling Stars

**Author's Note: Okay, let's put this out there again. Please review, so that I can make improvements and adjustments to my writing style as need be.**

**In other news, _Ant-Man_ comes out this Friday. That's exciting, right? Anyone?**

**Disclaimer: Let's see if I've got this… RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. Fate/Stay Night belongs to TYPE-MOON. A Certain Scientific Railgun and it's parent series Magical Index belong to… some guy with a "K" in his name. And Code Geass belongs to… Shaft? Not Shaft? Well, it belongs to someone who isn't me. Otherwise, Shirley would not have died. On the other hand, if I owned Code Geass then I don't think it would be very much like Code Geass… I digress.**

**Falling Stars**

**Have Nothing to do with This Chapter, so Forget Them**

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Owen asked.

"Are you feeling well enough to drive?" the Elder asked.

"HOW DID YOU FIX IT IN TWO DAYS WITH A HEAD INJURY?" shrieked the brown-haired woman, who had been introduced to Adam as Hanna.

Lancer shrugged and smirked, then winced, and turned back to look at the RV. Patches along the side that had been red or white now shone a metallic grey and jutted out like a nail that had been hammered through a board that was too small, but it looked far better than it had when they had arrived at Sina. The four travelers, the three children who had met them, the Elder, and the brown-haired woman who had been following Lancer around and pestering him about being able to do impossible repairs stood before it, looking over it—except for Eric, who Adam noticed was looking out the mouth of the cave contemplatively.

He wasn't entirely sure what Lancer had said to him, but it seemed to have gotten him thinking.

"One," Lancer said, counting off on his fingers, "They took us by surprise. We'll be ready this time. Two, I've done so in worse conditions. Three, I'm a bit of a renaissance man." He turned to Misaka. "You wanna get set up on top?"

"'Misaka agrees that that would be tactically expedient,' Misaka replies," Misaka said, turning to Adam. "'Misaka requests—'"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Adam replied, yanking the door to the RV open and stepping in. A second later, he returned with a folding ladder which he proceeded to unfold and lean against the side of the RV. Misaka climbed up and stood on the roof. Closing her eyes and exhaling, she placed her hands at the base of the tower and screwed up her face in concentration. With a loud crackling and a low grinding sound, the tower split apart and tilted. Then, because Lancer was something of a nerd, it made a five-tone sound and reformed itself into a two-pronged contraption that no one could mistake for anything other than a—

"Is that a TV antenna?" Eric asked.

—okay, almost no one. Author's mistake.

"Well, the concept is the same in general," Lancer admitted, "but the execution is quite different… Actually, the concept isn't even close. Sorry, bad comparison. Think of it more like… I don't know, a pump? No, that's no good…"

Hanna collapsed, twitching. The Elder walked over to her prone figure and poked her twice. When that failed to gain a response, he pulled out a permanent marker. Maya gave him a curious look and held out her hand. The Elder pulled out a second marker and handed it to her.

Eric stepped forward and looked Lancer in the eyes. "I'll see you again when I'm a huntsman," he vowed. Lancer grinned.

"I guess we will," he said. Then he turned around and climbed into RV. "Adam! Milly! Battle stations!"

"We don't _have_ battle stations!" Milly snapped as she helped Adam re-fold the ladder. The Elder paused in drawing a third eye on Hanna's forehead, and pointed out that Maya had misspelled a word.

"A minor detail!"

Still bickering, Adam carried the ladder into the RV, followed by Milly. The door shut, and the RV began to back towards the mouth of the cave. Misaka waved to the onlookers in a way that seemed almost mechanical. The Elder finished his eye, and joined Maya for a game of tic-tac-toe.

"'Goodbye,' says Misaka, expressing regret at having to leave her new friends," she said. Then the RV rolled into the morning light.

"Hey, what are you doing that for?" Owen asked Maya and the Elder.

* * *

After five minutes, it had been decided that 'battle stations' meant 'pick a window. 'Thus, Adam had situated himself in his customary place (perfect for quickly climbing out and dislodging hangers-on), while Milly had installed herself at the table on the Driver's side, flipping a catch and pushing the window open. Reaching under bench, she pulled out a sub-machine gun which she checked to see was loaded. Adam simply sat in the driver seat, but he was driving with one hand—ready to summon Gae Bolg at the drop of a hat.

And on top of the RV was Misaka.

When Misaka had joined him and Milly in the RV, Lancer had had one of those ideas that is either inspired or moronic. It had proven itself effective, though, in that ace-in-the-hole manner that a really big gun pulled out of the most unexpected place seemed to have. Lancer had attempted to explain how it worked once, but it had entirely flown over Milly's head and Adam simply hadn't cared. So for now, we'll chalk it up to "science."

What it did? Simple.

The Nevermore, having rediscovered its perch, dropped out of the air to take it once again. A bolt of lightning ripped through its body, and it turned to dust.

"'First contact,' says Misaka confidently," a small speaker situated just above the radio announced. "'Misaka is looking for the tyrannosaurus,' she adds, with a fascinated undertone."

"Anyone know why a dinosaur is out there in the first place?" Lancer asked. Milly shrugged, and Adam cocked his head to one side, which was the closest thing to a hug you'd get from the ex-terrorist. There was a sound like thunder, if thunder was directly above your head and coming out of your car.

"'Second contact,' says Misaka."

"Yeah, we got it," Lancer replied, "You can stop calling them out now."

"'Understood.'"

There was a roar, and Lancer glanced out his window. Summoning Gae Bolg, he hurled it out the window. There was a loud, feline shriek that was silenced by the rooftop cannon.

"How many more shots do you think she has in her?" Milly asked.

"Six or seven, tops," Lancer replied. The rooftop cannon was essentially an amplifier for Misaka's electrokinetic abilities, but anyone, psychic or no, was vulnerable to fatigue. "Hey kid, don't be trigger happy. We don't need to beat them, just escape them."

The cannon went off again.

"Think she was listening?" Adam asked. Lancer groaned. "I'll get up there." The faunus rolled the window down, grabbed the top of the RV, and flipped himself out. Milly ran up to take his seat. The cannon fired again, this time one continuous burst that Lancer could see out his window, boring through a Deathstalker's armor.

* * *

"Misaka, listen to me. You're going to burn yourself out like this. You hear me?" Adam called to Misaka 10033. She wasn't wholly paying attention, focusing instead on the Deathstalker.

/10032/ He is correct, you know, Misaka points out.

"'Misaka believes that the best strategy would be to heavily use the cannon early on, in hopes of inducing fear in the attackers,' Misaka justifies her strategy," Misaka said.

/19090/ When did you start doing that? Misaka asks.

/10033/ Doing what? Misaka answers with her own question, thoroughly puzzled.

/17055/ You aren't using first person pronouns, Misaka explains.

/10033/ What does that have to do with anything? Misaka argues.

/19090/ Fine, fine, Misaka grumbles. It was just an observation.

"Misaka, you're going to hurt yourself!" Adam shouted, apparently having covered the distance to her as she conversed with her sisters. Misaka hadn't been paying attention to him.

"'Misaka already explained what she was doing,' Misaka complains," she retorted,shooting down a closing Ursa. That was a question.

/10033/ Can anyone explain to Misaka the reason for the number of unusually-sized Grimm around here? Misaka asks.

/19090/ NEVERMORE! Misaka says by way of warning.

Misaka swiveled the cannon about, and fired on the incoming Grimm.

/19090/ We don't even know where you are, Misaka points out.

/10032/ I am presently conversing with Onee-sama, Misaka reveals. She says to knock it off and not to act like an idiot, she states, hoping to lend the weight of authority to her argument.

"'Misaka is almost finished,' says Misaka as she prepares to lay down a brief curtain of cover fire," Misaka said, bringing the cannon around to face toward the rear. She focused, mustered the energy…

And couldn't.

Huh?

She could make out Misaka 10032 berating her, pointing out that having her power amplified externally didn't increase how much she actuallyhad, could hear Adam moving towards her, feel her hands slipping from the controls…

_Huh. Misaka was a lot more tired than Misaka felt_, she thought.

* * *

"… know that the rooftop cannon was not designed to be used that way!" Misaka could make out Lancer saying. "I mean seriously, aren't you supposed to be smart?" She flopped over on the bench at the table, and Lancer was standing there beside her talking irritably, as if… Oh, right.

"'Misaka's strategy was… there were a lot of them,' Misaka…" MIsaka attempted, and gave up. All things considered, she would have preferred sleeping.

"Yeah, there were a lot. But you don't have to emulate Milly!" Lancer replied. Oh, drat. He wasn't letting her get back to sleep.

"'Misaka's purpose—"

"You explained your purpose," Lancer cut her off, "but it was no less monumentally stupid! What were you thinking?"

"'Can't Misaka—"

"No," Lancer replied. "Not until you tell me—"

"'Misaka wanted her gun back,' Misaka grouses," Misaka said.

Lancer gave her a short stare. "What?" he asked.

"'Misaka does not have much to call her own,' Misaka explains," MIsaka replied. Lancer was giving her an look that was growing odder and odder, as if he couldn't understand that she was feeling anything in the first place. "'When Misaka started out, all Misaka had was her clothing, that rifle, and some clean underwear,' she continues. 'Misaka wanted her rifle back, but there was no way to get it back, and Misaka took it out on the Grimm,' she finishes emotionally."

Lancer gave her an odd look for a few more seconds, and then sighed. "Well," he said, "I guess I can relate to that. I must have trouble thinking of you as anything other than a weird, smart girl."

"'Where is everyone?' Misaka asks, changing the subject swiftly and artfully," Misaka asked.

Lancer shrugged. "Well, Adam's running around looking for a job so that we'll be able to check into a hotel in the foreseeable future," he explained. "And Milly? She's…"

* * *

"Come on," Milly whispered into the payphone, biting her lip in nervousness, "Pick up pick up pick up…"

_Click_

"Hello, this is Ashford Academy," a familiar voice said. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Lelouch," Milly said, trying not to laugh or cry. It had been two years since they had last talked, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do. "How are you?"

"Milly!" she could hear the surprise in Lelouch's voice, pleasure creeping in. "I'm fine! Everyone's fine! Kallen's stopped riding motorcycles through the walls, Nunally's walking better, heck, Suzaku's got a girlfriend, I—"

Milly decided on laughter. A big, roaring laugh—though she would never admit it—that tore it's way out of her throat and left her gasping for breath. "Okay, okay, I get it," she giggled. "That… That's not what I'm calling about."

Lelouch's voice went somber. "Oh, yes. That. Are you going to be there for the funeral?"

"He's family, Lelouch," Milly replied. "I'll be there soon as I can."

There was a pause. Milly had no doubt that Lelouch was working some sort of dial or switch, trying to glom in on her location. Too bad she wouldn't be there by tomorrow.

"Hey, Lelouch?"

"Yeah?"

"How's everyone else?"

"Everyone else? Shirley's fine too, she's thinking about becoming a professional swimmer," Lelouch confirmed. "Rivalz is actually a pretty capable vice-president, too. Nina's… been acting a little strange, come to think about it. Maybe I should have her see a therapist? The guys from the Black Knights have all readjusted nicely, it's… It's pretty peaceful out here. Can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah. See you soon," Milly replied, then hung up the phone before they could continue the conversation.

She hadn't been prepared for how much it would hurt. To hear a dear friend's voice for the first time in so long, and to tear herself away before anything too important, too personal, could be said. Still, it sounded like everything was nice and calm over at Ashford.

Maybe, if they were quick and sneaky about it, she might enjoy a little calm herself. Before everything went to hell.

**Author's Note: Production note: Everyone in Sina was supposed to be based off of/parody someone from _Attack on Titan_, except for the Elder. He was meant to be a knockoff of Monk Gyatso from _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, but he didn't act like it. Therefore, I let him act silly in this chapter, and Maya (who was meant to be super-serious) follows along! Aren't characters supposed to do what the author wants them to?**

**Next time, the crew boards a ferry that will take them on the next step of their journey… and something else happens… All of a sudden, I realize that I'm going to have to wing this one.**


	7. Ferry Kind

**Author's Note: I'm back! Thought you had seen the end of me, didn't you. No, I have been forgetting and forgetting to write this chapter, having been distracted by such things as _Hyouka_ and _Love, Chuunibyou, and Other Delusions_, but I! Have! RETURNED! Now if only the next episode of Precure comes out sooner, I'll be set!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, Code Geass, A Certain Scientific Railgun, or Fate/stay Night, and thank goodness for that. If I did, I would utterly screw them all up.**

**Ferry Kind**

**Is A Horrible Pun, Isn't It**

The island nation that Colony Eleven was located in sat not far across the seas from the continent of Vytal, but still almost a full twenty-four hours away by boat. The distance was shorter by airplane, but not everyone could afford to travel that way, due to either cost or not wanting to leave their big honking RVs behind. Hence, the existence of the ferry.

The ferry service was as singularly odd sight. The first thing you saw walking towards it was the signboard with departure times posted. There was no list of destinations—There was only one practical location. The word ferry was itself a joke to be honest—the ships that traversed the short stretch of ocean could be compared to a ferry in the same way that a Doberman could be compared to a teacup poodle.

It was still, Misaka decided, as the RV rolled to a stop (with all the bulldoggish stubbornness Lancer brought to bear when considering his final possession, he had not even allowed the attendants near it), one of the most improbable vessels to make the trip and back across Grimm-filled waters. There had to be some trick to it, though—Milly had purportedly made the trip to the mainland by stowing away on a ferry—and she was admittedly somewhat curious as to what it might be.

/11111/ It says here that the hulls are chemically treated to prevent the Grimm from detecting the ferries, Misaka reads from her laptop.

/10033/ Is that it? Misaka thought it would have been something more exciting, Misaka laments.

/11111/ Seriously, when did you stop—

/10033/ What do first person pronouns have to do with anything? Misaka demands.

Misaka missed Misaka-11111's response, for the unfortunate reason that the deck tilted slightly and she tripped over nothing, falling against Milly's back.

"Haven't got those sea legs yet, Skipper?" Milly asked jokingly.

Misaka regarded this. Very often, Milly would display behavior that, when correlated with data from the other Misakas, indicated friendship. However, Milly was highly insistent that she was not friends with Misaka, Lancer, or Adam. Misaka 10032 suggested that maybe she was a tsundere, but Misaka's attempt to confirm it had ended in disaster.

"Don't worry, kid. You'll get used to it eventually," Lancer said good-naturedly. He and Adam were walking around with all the ease in the world, as if they had been born on ships.

Although they hadn't.

At least, Misaka was fairly sure they hadn't.

/11043/ Chu Cullain wasn't, Misaka confirms. I did a mythology report on him.

/10032/ Onee-sama says that we are not allowed to hack the national mainframe to confirm Adam Taurus's birth records, says Misaka.

/Last Order/ Also, stop using the Network to satisfy random flights of curiosity, says Misaka as Misaka is finding this to be inane.

"'Misaka hopes so,' Misaka complains," she said in reply to Lancer.

"Hey!" Milly said suddenly. "When did you stop using first person pronouns?"

That was never going to go away, was it.

* * *

Misaka tuned out the captain's speech over the intercom as the ferry left the dock. She already knew the details of what he was going to say from what some Misakas had dredged up on the internet, and others had learned from actually going on the ferry for school trips or secret missions or the like. She knew that the company that ran the ferries was forty-five years old, and that the hull—as her sister had said earlier—was treated with a veritable cocktail of chemicals to simultaneously deter the massive, sea-going Grimm like Jorgmandrs and Cetuses from attacking the ships and prevent them from scenting the humans riding them. Looking to the right, she saw Adam sitting upright resolutely (because for whatever reason, Adam tended to have the posture of an iron rod), and on the left Lancer pulling out a novel of the Dresden Files and Milly…

Milly was sitting, hunched over, hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes were shifting over the passengers of the boat, glancing over the crew, alight with suspicion and fear. Even though the coating had allegedly proven itself time and again, Misaka decided that she ought to do something to comfort her companion. It was what companions did, after all, right?

That decided, she reached across Lancer's lap—and book, to his startled squawk—and patted Milly twice on the leg. Milly looked down in shock, saw her arm, and her eyes ran up the limb to Misaka. She blinked, and then a small amount of fear was lost to mirth. It wasn't a lot, but Milly was able to take a deep breath and sit up taller for it.

"Do you think you could move your arm?" Lancer demanded.

"'Oh, sorry," says Misaka."

/10033/ Misaka has another question, says Misaka, worried.

/19090/ Oh great, says Misaka.

/10033/ It is not a "random flight of curiosity," Misaka clarifies. Milly has expressed distress at having to return to her home. Misaka is worried that there may have been violence involved in her departure which would affect our time there, Misaka further explains.

/19088/ Fine, we'll look into it, says Misaka, almost growling in frustration. Now could you please stop asking questions? she demands.

/10033/ If Misaka does not ask questions, then how will Misaka gain knowledge? Asks Misaka.

/Last Order/ That's enough of that, Says Misaka as Misaka does not want to have this conversation again.

* * *

It was dark out—some time after ten, by his estimation—and very few passengers were still left standing on deck when Adam was shaken awake by Misaka. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he began working furiously to figure out if she had figured out that he had been snoozing the moment he had sat down, or if she was still under the illusion.

"'... Wants to look around,' Misaka finishes," Misaka whispered.

"Say that again?" Adam asked. He looked her over and saw that she was wearing her normal skirt and a flannel nightshirt, as if she had gotten out of bed in a hurry and been half-asleep when she dressed herself.

"'Misaka heard a weird noise,' Misaka explains," Misaka replied. "'Misaka is worried, so she wants to find out what made it.'"

"Are you sure you weren't just having a bad dream?" Adam replied, tensing and untensing, waking himself up more fully.

"'Yes, Misaka is sure,' whines Misaka. 'Can we go find out what made the noise?'"

Adam was tempted—tempted—to go back to sleep and leave Misaka to handle the mystery herself, writing it off as a bad dream. But what if it wasn't? What if—on some off chance—there was something wrong on board? Adam wouldn't call himself paranoid, but he did have a bit of a cautious edge to him, developed from the years he'd spent fighting a war for his rights, and dodging bounty hunters after the war had come to an unexpected and unfortunate end.

Not paranoid, but it never hurt to be careful.

"Fine," he groused. "Let's go."

* * *

Adam inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, and tried desperately not to pound Misaka over the head for her curiosity. Instead, he gripped the railing and tried to crush it with his bare hands.

They had searched the decks (nothing), the halls (nothing), the dining room or mess or whatever it was called on a ship(also nothing), and even snuck into the kitchen and the bridge. Nothing. Not a peep out of place. And yet, Misaka stubbornly insisted that she had heard something.

"'Misaka is sure,' Misaka insists," Misaka said.

"Do you need your hearing checked?" Adam demanded. "There's nothing out here!"

"'But Misaka heard it,'" Misaka pleaded.

"Okay, look. I've accommodated you here," Adam growled. "But this has gone on long enough. You were having a nightmare. There is nothing dangerous out here! You. Are. Imagining. Things. Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

Misaka gave him a blank look for several seconds, before turning and walking away. Adam wasn't entirely sure, but he thought this might be some odd Misaka equivalent of sulking. With a half-sigh half-groan, he followed her.

And it was a good thing, too.

Because Misaka opened the door at the exact perfect second to find some mystery man bringing a sword down on Milly's head.

**Author's Note: Looking back, I discovered here that I really, really enjoy writing Misaka. I actually had to make myself switch to Adam. In any case, next episode is FIGHT SCENE! Here's praying I don't flub it.**

_**Life Is What Happens To**_** You****! Come for the story, stay on to see how stupid the chapter titles get!**


	8. Ferry Fight

**Author's Note: Here I am again! Surprise! Now to story!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the four series that make this up so far, crossovers like this would be a thing. Which disturbs me.**

**Ferry Fight**

**Isn't a Pun In the First Place**

If it had been Adam there alone, he probably wouldn't have done anything to stop the assassin. It wasn't any matter of like or dislike, it was simply that his reflexes were not fast enough, that he would have fallen just short of stopping the killer, and his mission would have been a success. He wouldn't have cared that much, either—after all, Milly was simply some hanger-on of Lancer's, no one of worth to Adam.

But Misaka was there too.

Misaka, who had already seen enough bloodshed and death—even if only by proxy—to last multiple lifetimes.

So as the sword came down, Wilt was already spinning through the air, striking the blade and knocking it away. Milly came awake with a start, pulled her legs in, kicked upwards to strike the assassin in the face as Adam charged in, intent on retrieving his sword. She then flailed briefly, entangled in the bedsheets, and the assassin stumbled back, steadied, brought the blade around, and Adam was tugging Wilt from the wall, unable to react.

Misaka was another story. The clone girl leapt at the assassin, wrapped her arms around his neck, and there was a terrific _crack_. The assassin, his mouth wide open in a silent scream, ran backwards and slammed Misaka against the wall, but Milly was free now, pulling one of her pistols out from under her pillow and bringing it to bear. The Assassin reached behind him and threw Misaka in front of himself, but had to dodge away when Adam, his blade freed, charged him. He leapt out into the hallway, and Adam had his first good look at his opponent.

It wasn't a very good one, though. The man was taller than him, by just a little, but most of his body was covered by a ragged, grey cloak, and his head covered by a large, disk-like hat that obscured his eyes. He was, however, holding a short Japanese-style sword—one that Adam identified as an _uchigatana_—in one hand. Adam sheathed Wilt, and dropped into an iaijutsu position. He heard Milly behind him, urging Misaka to wake up, and tried to push it aside.

It didn't work. Rage bubbled in Adam's chest, threatening to burst destructively, and Adam pushed it down as best he was able.

For a second that seemed to last forever, the two opponents regarded each other.

Then Adam triggered Blush, and shot Wilt hilt-first at his opponent. His opponent brought his own weapon up to deflect it, and Adam closed the distance between them and swung Blush—held by the barrel—at his head. The opponent ducked under and Adam grabbed Wilt out of midair to block his counterattack. The assassin kicked him away, and Adam flipped gracefully, landing on his feet in a manner that would have left Blake envious and charged again. The assassin leapt to the left, turning to run, and Adam turned, bouncing off the wall and launching himself into pursuit.

Behind him he heard a sound of metal, and then a loud ringing sound filled the air. Milly must have triggered some kind of alarm, he decided. Disadvantage, it affected his hearing and ability to maneuver. Fortunately, it did the same for his opponent. She had probably used this method , or one like it, to escape from previous pursuers. Already, passengers were spilling from their bunks, and Adam leapt over one, rolling to his feet, ducked under another's arm, pushing forward, heard a woman cry out in pain, saw her collapsing as he ran past, hand clutching at a bleeding wound in her side, but she could be left for medics, and Adam pressed on.

Then he charged out the door onto the deck, and the assassin leapt down on him from above.

* * *

Lancer did not like being woken up in the middle of the night, so he covered his head with the pillow. It didn't matter, though. The alarm cut through the wonderful, soft, cushion-type thing like a hot knife through butter. Finally, Lancer threw the pillow aside and started for the door to find out what all the fuss was about.

The second before his hand closed on the handle, someone began hammering on the other side. Lancer groaned, and threw the door open, revealing Milly and Misaka, the former carrying the latter piggyback.

"What happened?" Lancer asked. "She okay?"

"Hitman," Milly replied grimly. "They probably caught on to me when I made that phone call. I should have been more careful—"

"What?" Lancer asked.

"Backstory, I'll explain later!" Milly shot back.

There was a pause.

"Adam's fighting?" Lancer asked. Milly nodded. "Then we'd better go find him—actually, no, you're the one he's after. Find a good hiding place, get Misaka there, hide."

Misaka groaned, stirred.

"Adam and I will come get you—"

"No," Milly replied. "If there's another hitman on board…"

"You have skills," Lancer replied. "Use them. And tomorrow morning, when all this is done, you're going to explain this to us."

Milly inhaled, grimaced, and nodded. "Not tomorrow morning. Once we get to Area Eleven, I'll show you to a secure place. I'll talk to you about it there."

"Fair enough. Now get going."

She shifted Misaka around to get a better grip, and started running. Two days later, she would realize that Lancer had only been wearing a pair of boxers at the time, and fall over herself giggling, but that's not important right now.

Blue, skintight armor formed. Red steel spun in air, falling into Lancer's hand. He knelt, cupped his chin in his free hand. Then he reached down, and began drawing a line on the floor.

* * *

Adam threw himself into a roll, narrowly dodging the assassin's blade. Coming up, he unsheathed Wilt and, spinning around, swung overarm at the Hitman, whose blade flashed out to block, his left foot swinging up to kick Adam in the stomach, but Blush cracked across his shin as he reached out. The hitman jumped back, landing lightly, but Adam had gotten him fairly hard with his last strike, and most of his weight was on his right leg. The two were still for a moment, regarding each other.

"Koumori," Adam said accusingly, bringing Wilt up to point directly at his opponent. "What in dust's name are you doing?"

The hitman chuckled, his voice deep and gravelly. He reached up slowly, and removed his hat. Free of its weight, a pair of bat-like ears springing up, making Koumori appear a full head-and-a-half taller than Adam. Coal-grey hair, once cropped short, formed a veil over his eyes, but Adam could see his manic, vicious grin and could make a guess as to what his eyes were like.

"I was wondering if you would remember me," the former White Fang member replied. "Isn't it just wonderful—"

"What. Are. You. Doing." Adam hissed. His eyes flickered down to the ground, noting the small, flickering symbol that had suddenly scurried through the doorway after them. Koumori hadn't noticed it yet, if he could only keep his eyes on him…

"Always so serious, aren't you," Koumori laughed. "Can't we just—"

"TELL ME!"

Koumori went silent. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of levity. "Don't tell me you actually care about those humans." Adam didn't answer. "You… Why would you..."

Adam charged.

The next minute was a frantic blur as steel crashed against steel, Koumori's weapon extending with a flick of his wrist and glowing with a ghostly, dust-infused light, Adam trying to beat him away for enough room to unleash his semblance. As they fought, Adam tried to remember everything he could about his former subordinate.

_He had been dedicated to the ideals the White Fang professed, Adam remembered that. That the only way to make their position better was to force the world to give them the respect the Faunus needed, that they deserved. Koumori had cheered at the top of his voice at the rallies, had been the first into battle and the last out._

Stab. Counter. Parry. Punch. Block. Repeat.

_That, as it turned out, had unsettled Adam—the violence that the White Fang engaged in was a means to an end, a necessity. Koumori claimed to recognize it, but it was all that any of them could do to drag him away from the fight. Blake had given him the speeches that had left them rolling their eyes. Lupe regarded him with suspicion and did everything possible to avoid him, and Adam himself had done his best to follow her example. Kay had complained, and made him the butt of her jokes. Lewis, however, had reached out to him, tried to keep him from going too far, tried to keep him, to use an ironic turn of phrase, human. He had been the slightly estranged brother to their little faux-family, which was not whatever Blake said it was, "closer than blood?" What did that even mean? No one had ever realized—or admitted—that there was something off about the bat._

Lancer exploded out of the doorway, thrusting out with Gae Bolg. Koumori leapt, flipping through the air, his cloak spreading and making him look all the more like an honest-to-dust bat.

_Things had changed after Blake left, and Adam was left to pick up the piece, leaving the surrogate family that they had formed shattered behind her. Adam had done his best to keep them together, but it was not to be. Lewis was dead in a month, and Lupe left the White Fang not long after, claiming it wasn't what she had signed up for. Finally, Adam decided that he needed to be stronger. Kay knew a guy, knew the man who had raised her, so Adam went looking._

Lancer and Adam charged in unison, weapons shining in air. Koumori touched down lightly, grabbed Gae Bolg by the shaft, blocked Wilt, swung his leg up between them and kicked them aside. Lancer dropped into a crouch, used his momentum to spin the spear around and bring the butt of it down on Koumori's head.

_When Adam had returned, things were worse. Between the five of them, especially Lewis, they'd been able to control Koumori when he was about to go too far, but having been left alone with only Kay, the bat-Faunus had gone from psycho to unstoppable serial killer. Kay's words were bitter and sarcastic, no longer finding the brighter side worth seeing. One night, she had confided that she feared for her life whenever alone around Koumori. Fortunately, Adam found that he could exert some measure of control over Koumori, who now obeyed him with a strange, almost sickening glee, leaving him more unsettled than ever._

Koumori stumbled, giving Adam the opportunity to charge in, plant his fist in his solar plexus, doubling him over so that Adam could bring Wilt's hilt down on the back of his neck. Koumori fell to the floor, lifted himself into a handstand and flailed his legs like helicopter blades, driving Adam back.

_Finally, the day had come when they learned the fight was over. Three killers were left with nowhere to go and nothing to do with themselves. Koumori had followed Adam like a distressed puppy, while Kay took a breath and tried to force them to strike out into the world. Everyone knew the problem, even if they didn't acknowledge it—the fight was all that they had. Now, there was nothing._

The faunus hitman twisted to land on his feet, catching the blade of Gae Bolg inches from his face. Lancer released the spear and charged forward, kicking out. Koumori rolled backwards to avoid the attack.

_Over the days, Adam's control over Koumori had slipped, the former terrorist growing more and more crazed. Without a present enemy, he no longer had any one to point him at. Finally, Kay had tearfully admitted that she couldn't stay any longer, that the fear was just too great. Adam had seen her off at the train station, wished her luck. And then he got on the next train. Koumori was a wild animal. Adam wanted nothing more to do with him._

Koumori swung his weapon, and a whip of energy flicked out, cutting through the deck. Lancer leapt away, Adam dodged around the attack and came in close, striking with Wilt again, Koumori broke off the attack to dodge, then formed the whip again, attempting to trap Adam's arm, forcing him to drop back.

_Blake, Lewis, Lupe. Sometimes Adam felt a little jealous. They'd gotten out at a good time._

Deeper, Adam dredged. Memories that he'd buried as deep as he could, that he had purposefully forgotten, searching for something—anything—that he could use against his former teammate. Finally, he just decided _oh whatever_ and went with the simplest and—in Adam's opinion—most ridiculous.

"Koumori!" he shouted, gesturing grandly with Wilt, "What would Lewis think if he saw you doing this?"

Koumori shrugged. "I don't know," he replied, "he's dead."

Drat. Not that it was a very good idea in the first place, but drat.

Adam and Lancer charged once again, from opposite sides…

* * *

As Misaka came to, the first thing she noticed was her splitting headache.

"'Ow,' moans Misaka, diplaaaooooooooowww," she whimpered.

/10032/ I told you that was a bad idea, Misaka points out flatly.

/10033/ Shut up, Misaka whimpers.

Misaka reached up to the back of her head, gingerly dabbing the spot that was throbbing in agony. Her fingers came away bloodied.

"Shhh!" Milly hissed in her ear. Misaka turned to face her, and immediately regretted the action. This was the second thing she noticed—she and Milly were squeezed up against each other in a small, dark space. By Misaka's guess, it was a broom closet or something of the like.

/11119/ The last time that happened was to Misaka-7835, wasn't it? asks Misaka. That was right before he started getting creative.

/Last Order/ Don't go there.

/10033/ ooooooowwwwwww

"Wh-wh-wha—" Misaka attempted out loud, trying her best to ignore the PAIN bouncing through her skull.

"Shh," Milly whispered. "There could be more of them."

More… What was she talking about…

/11111/ The hitman, Misaka reminds her dazed sister.

Hitman… right… ow.

"'Where…' Misaka… ow…"

"Don't worry about that right now," Milly said. "Right now, we're going to wait for Lancer and Adam to come back. Understand?"

"'Yes,' says Misaka," Misaka managed. She blinked. It seemed her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark.

"Good," Milly gave her a forced smile, and hugged her knees. "Now keep quiet."

_Stomp_

Milly's eyes widened, and suddenly lights streamed around the edges of the door.

_Stomp Stomp Stomp_

Milly inhaled, exhaled deeply, silently. Misaka stared at the floor, where a pair of shadows blocked the light's entry.

* * *

The words that Adam and this 'Koumori' guy had traded meant that they knew each other from way back when. Unfortunately, Adam tended to be tight-lipped about his past, so Lancer wasn't sure as to the exact nature of their connection. As of yet, he had to figure the bat-faunus for himself.

So far, he knew two things: Koumori was nuts, and Koumori was GOOD.

By now, the three combatants had reached the point where, to a casual observer, they were little more than blurs pressing against each other, assaulting their opponent in an almost invisible whirl of steel, blades clashing in a storm of attacks and deflections, movements that were skill, instinct, or some mixture of the two. Even when one of the three was knocked away, they only received a split second to breath before the battle was rejoined, even fiercer than before.

Involuntarily, a smile began forming on Lancer's face. Though who could blame him? It was the best fight he'd had in years.

Koumori ducked under a strike from Adam, deflected Gae Bolg, threw his sword into the air, and brought his hands together. The deck cracked, and a shockwave blew Adam and Lancer backwards. The three stood still, breathing heavily, watching each other warily. The exchanged—one that seemed to have lasted an eternity—couldn't have gone longer than five minutes.

"How…" Koumori hissed, pointing his sword at Lancer. Lancer shrugged.

"It's all in the wrist, really. You need a balanced weapon—"

"How could you betray your own kind!" the bat-Faunus ignored him, shrieking at Adam. "Fighting alongside this… this HUMAN?"

"I'm a HEROIC SPIRIT!" Lancer snapped. Koumori and Adam ignored him.

"What about you?" Adam replied tersely. "The Ashford girl is no one to the Anti-Faunus crowd, and your strategy says more assassin than freedom fighter. That implies you're working for someone. Someone… possibly… human?"

"Human target," Koumori replied.

"You're messed up," Lancer said.

"Silence, human!"

"HEROIC SPIRIT!"

Koumori's face went slack with confusion for a split second. "Huh?"

Lancer gave him a blank glare. "You don't watch the news, do you."

"It doesn't matter," Adam said. "We're not done here. And your chance at your target is gone."

Koumori paused, and nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right," he said. "We'll have to continue this discussion later, Adam."

Then he leapt—high, high in the air—backwards—off of the ship. Adam and Lancer charged forward, looked over the side. Nothing. Adam's hand clenched over Wilt's hilt, and Lancer groaned.

No body.

Koumori was out there. And now they didn't know where.

* * *

The twin shadows remained still in front of the door. Two shadows, two feet, one target. Milly edged over further to the side, raised a leg, and let a breath out.

The doorknob clicked.

Milly thrust her leg out, smashing the door against the figure. She rushed out, grabbed the figure by the shirt front, barely noting details like a brown jacket, comically large pompadour, and slamming her fist into his forehead. The man's eyes rolled up, and he went limp. Milly hooked her arm under his shoulder and swung him around, now between Milly and the door of the room. Under her breath, Milly repeated the creed she had developed after a while on the run, one that had saved her life several times already.

"If there's one, there's always another."

She fished the pistol out of her waistband.

"And if there's two, there's probably one more."

She was ready.

And then a gunshot rang from the small vent on the ceiling, and cut a thin line across the skin on Milly's left shoulder. Milly swung her shield around, brought her gun up, fired at the vent. A quick snapping noise caught her attention, she looked around to see Misaka, goggles over her eyes, pointing at a spot on the ceiling, a split second before another shot came from that spot aiming at her again. She fired again, the bullet punching through the ceiling easily—no blood, no sign, no hit. Misaka pointed again, and Milly took the cue, putting three bullets in the spot indicated. There was a shriek, and Milly's gun dropped—the voice was high, childish, couldn't have been older than fifteen. There was a loud clanging, and suddenly silence.

Her meat shield moved. Milly brought her hand down on the back of his neck in a swift chopping motion.

Misaka stared at the downed enemy for a full thirty seconds, before turning to Milly. "'He works for the Atlesian Mob,' says Misaka, receiving a summary profile on the enemy," she said.

Milly nodded "I figured."

"'Are you in trouble with the Atlesian Mob?' asks Misaka," the teenage clone asked.

"No. With one of their friends," Milly replied tersely.

* * *

After dealing with the hitman that Milly had seized (bodily dragged him to the security personnel, ignoring Milly, Adam, and Lancers' shared awkwardness at not considering this option first), they had spent the rest of night huddled in an outward-facing circle, the four of them, no one sleeping on the off chance that the shooter in the vents reappear, or the man that Adam called Koumori come charging through the door.

Misaka had asked the Network to provide everything they could on Koumori, and then briefed Milly on the ex-White Fang's rather dubious accomplishments. Milly had turned a rather pale shade of green, and asked Misaka how her head was feeling—it was fine, though still throbbing, and Milly had a go at it with a First Aid kit that they had been given after some asking around.

It was nothing Misaka was not used to. All the Sisters carried memories of carefully planned ambushes and nights spent waiting for the inevitable apprehensively. Compared to that, this was nothing.

Misaka turned to look at Milly. "'You're shivering,' Misaka observes," she noted. "'Are you afraid, or cold?' she asks, worried.

"I'm not cold," Milly replied, raising her hands to her face. "I just… Oh dust, I thought I was over this."

"Being scared?" Lancer asked, still suspicious but temporarily mollified by the promised explanation.

"Not that, just…" Milly threw her hands in the air and leaned back, her shoulder bumping against Misaka's. "Yeah. I'm scared."

"Nothing wrong with that," Lancer replied. Misaka couldn't see, but she guessed that he had given a noncommittal shrug.

"Please stop talking," Adam groused. They were silent after that. Misaka would have preferred that the conversation continue and hold off the near-palpable tension that continued for hours, as the ferry docked, as they went down to the vehicle bay or garage or whatever it was supposed to be called—

/14400/ No one's looking it up for you, says Misaka exasperatedly.

—and went over the RV for any signs of intruders or sabotage. When it had been satisfactorily scanned, they had climbed in, all four still on Combat Alert. Lancer started the vehicle, rolled gently out of the ferry onto the dock, and into Area Eleven.

"Okay," Lancer said, "Secure place."

Milly nodded. "Forward three blocks, then turn right, we want to keep to the streets with more traffic…"

**Author's Note: Next chapter: Ashford Academy! Oh yeah, and other stuff, like backstory explained, and the secret to successfully averting a bad ending.**

**And please review. Please.**


	9. Anime

**Author's Note: It's been a while, isn't it? I suppose that's college. A combination of papers, tests, oh-please-God-let-me-not-fail, and being sort of tired all the way through, bumming around your vacations when you get them... This is my second year, you'd think I'd be used to it. Oh well. So, anyhow. Last time, I believe I said that I'd get around to Milly's backstory. It's right here, I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the series mentioned here. And that's good.**

**Anime**

**It Solves Your Problems**

Ashford Academy, it turned out, was Big.

Not big as, say, an entire city, or something of similar size. But it definitely dwarfed Sina—maybe even Beacon—dorms, study halls, libraries, and faculty buildings sprawling across an area that if you'd asked Adam was a little too much for just a school. He asked Misaka about it, and her eyes glazed over for a moment.

"'Misaka is not allowed to ask questions anymore,' Misaka pouts dejectedly," she replied. Well okay then.

"WHY IS THERE NO PARKING!" Lancer screamed. That was another problem—some kind of Inverse Law of Parking Spaces, the more you needed them, the fewer there were. Misaka had actually postulated such a theory, earning her several odd looks and then grudging agreements that such a thing was not altogether impossible.

"Don't worry," Milly replied, "Lelouch will have left a space reserved for us. He's not completely heartless." She looked out her window suspiciously, as if she still wasn't quite sure she was safe. Adam could understand the feeling—after the incident on the ferry, there was no way any of them wouldn't be feeling on edge. Milly, though, seemed to have it especially badly.

"'Would that be Lelouch as in Lelouch Lamperouge?' asks Misaka in an attempt to distract Milly from whatever is bothering her," Misaka said, cocking her head slightly to one side.

"Oh, you've heard of him?" Milly asked. "I'll have to introduce you."

"'Misaka 17900 has watched _Code Geass_,' Misaka contemplates," Misaka said. "'Lelouch died at the end of the second season,' she adds to clarify her point of confusion."

"Ah, you did watch it, didn't you," Milly replied. A smirk began to play across her mouth, as if some small part of her former self were reawakening. "So did Lelouch."

"I don't follow," Adam said.

"PARKING!" Lancer shouted, cutting off any response that Milly might have made. He craned his neck out the window and saw that, yes, there was a solitary empty parking space sandwiched between a tree and what looked like some kind of luxury car.

"Gah! Hey! I'm still halfway out the window!"

"Sorry!"

"YOU WILL BE—"

"KNOCK IT OFF!"

Lancer and Adam turned to look at Milly. Her face was flushed and her hands clenched in anger, Adam wasn't sure whether she was angry at their childishness in the face of danger, or at an event that was going to hold great personal meaning to her. He breathed in deeply, almost trying to exhale the frustration he had been feeling just a moment earlier. Not that he was going to apologize—

"Sorry," said Lancer gruffly.

—he… didn't… care… Oh, forget it.

"'Will there be food?' asks Misaka, as the fridge is empty and Misaka requires nutrition to function properly—"

"Probably, yes," Milly replied flatly. The spark of life was completely gone from her face, subsumed by whatever problems she was returning to—_thud_

"Ow," a new voice grumbled. Everyone turned to see a young man with black hair and deep violet eyes sprawled on his back across the floor. "Ah, hello everyone," he added as if it were an afterthought.

"So you're a ninja now, Lelouch?" Milly asked dryly, offering him her hand. "Things must have really changed while I was away."

"Sayoko and Jeremiah have been teaching me a few tricks lately," Lelouch Lamperouge acknowledged, pulling himself upright. "It's not nearly as easy as they make it look."

"'You are not dead,' Misaka notes, examining Lelouch," Misaka said observantly. Adam grit his teeth and _willed_ himself not to laugh.

"Yes, I'd like to suppose that's a given," Lelouch replied. "You'd be Misaka, then?" There was a moment of silence as Adam gave Lelouch what was likely a pointed look. No one could be certain because of his visor. "I did a little research when Milly called to say she was coming back. You four… tend to leave a mark."

"Fair enough," Adam replied.

Lelouch turned to Milly. "I've taken the liberty of having Sayoko set your old room up for you and Misaka. I also have a place in the mens' dorms for Adam and Lancer, if they're willing to take it." He opened the door and thrust his head out, looking both ways. "I would love to talk more, but if I don't head back soon, Jeremiah will realize that I'm gone. The funeral is in two days, so you'll be able to do whatever you want until then." He jumped out and walked away.

The four of them sat in silence again for a few seconds. Then the other three turned to Milly.

"Fine," she sighed. "My room."

"So. You want to know what this is about."

"Well, let's start at the beginning. See, we found _Code Geass_ for sale a year or two before the events of the show were supposed to happen. Once Lelouch found out it was about him, he shut himself in his room with it for a week. Planning, I suppose. But whatever he did, he took the Britannian Empire down without even trying. And so we came to the events after the war."

"'Misaka doesn't understand,' Misaka complains," Misaka said. She, Adam, and Lancer had taken various positions around the room—Misaka was sitting at a desk, Lancer was sitting _on_ the desk for some reason, and Adam was leaning at the doorframe. Milly was sitting on her bed, hands clasped in her lap.

"You get a bunch of dedicated fighters and take away anything for them to fight," Lancer replied, "They end up going a little stir crazy." Adam was conspicuously silent.

"Yeah, something like that," Milly agreed. Misaka nodded and filed away this information.

Going by what Misaka knew of Milly, the room was fairly unusual for her. It was much more extravagant, with posters decorating the walls and a big fluffy comforter on the bed. Milly tended to prefer somewhat more Spartan surroundings, as if she would have to leave sometime soon. Not something this… floofy.

/19090/ NO ONE IS GOING TO CHECK AND SEE IF THAT'S A WORD, seethes Misaka.

/10033/ Misaka didn't say anything, Misaka says.

/14044/ You were going to, Misaka points out.

/10033/ Misaka wasn't!

/15305/ Why don't you use first person pronouns anymore? Misaka asks.

…

/10032/ Oh great, you made her cry, Misaka sighs in exasperation.

/10033/ Misaka isn't crying, Misaka protests.

"Lelouch and I decided to let everyone who had been a member of the Black Knights stay on campus while the government was getting set back up, and, well… what Lancer said. The war had been such a big part of their lives, and now it was gone. They had nothing to do with themselves."

"Kallen took it worse than most of the others. To look at her, she had nothing to live for. And Lelouch was trying to help her with that, and Shirley has her crazy huge crush on Lelouch, so you know how that was going to go."

"Why do I get the feeling that you did something undeniably stupid?" Adam demanded curtly.

"It wasn't stupid. I decided to set Lelouch up with both Kallen and Shirley at the same time," Milly replied in the same tone.

For several seconds, the room was silent.

"'Maybe it's a cultural thing?' Milly suggests," Milly said in a quiet tone that was probably meant to be a whisper.

"Hey!"

"So what happened," Lancer asked, holding up a hand for silence.

"… Let's just say I owe Yang Xiao Long two-thousand Lien," Milly replied ruefully. "Lelouch was pretty ticked."

"So, he decided that for punishment I needed to get a taste of my own medicine. He makes me go on a date with Rivalz and sends Cornelia along as a chaperone for some reason…"

"_Oh, my fair and beautiful lady," Rivalz said to the paragon of womanhood—_

"KNOCK IT OFF!"

"… says Misaka, slightly put out."

"_So, how was school today Milly?" Rivalz asked, attempting to break the awkward silence that surrounded the three's table._

"_Nothing to report," Milly Ashford replied miserably. She scooped up a spoonful of soup, and let it pour back into the bowl._

"_H-how about you, Princess—what are you looking at?" Rivalz turned to Cornelia, who was staring at a table a little further away. Her brow was furrowed as if she recognized them._

"_Hum? Oh, nothing. I have something I need to take care of, I'll be right back," Cornelia replied, standing and walking away. Rivalz shrugged and turned back to Milly._

"_Wonder what that's about," he said contemplatively._

"_Who knows? Probably some plan of Lelouch's to get us alone and humiliate me," Milly grumbled._

"_Wow, Milly, you're just a bundle of joy today. I know Lelouch is trying to get back at you for your whole… antic thing… but you could try and enjoy it a little! You know, turn it back on him," Rivalz suggested. Milly gave him a look that suggested he needed to be medicated._

"_That's what he wants!" Milly exclaimed, scandalized. Rivalz raised his hands in a fashion that Milly was pretty sure was the fashion you used when convincing the crazy person to put the gun down._

"_Alright, alright," he said in a placating tone. "Let's just… What in heck is Cornelia doing?"_

_Milly turned in her seat to see Cornelia arguing with four men who were sitting four tables away. The restaurant was loud enough that whatever was being said couldn't reach them, but it looked like things might turn ugly._

_Then they did turn ugly, as Cornelia went for her gun… sword… What was it called, anyways?_

"Focus."

"I wasn't going on a tangent!

_Whatever it was, Cornelia placed it squarely between the eyes of one man. Reactions were immediate, two of the others breaking away and running, the last taking a swing at Cornelia which ended fairly predictably. Milly and Rivalz gave each other a quick glance as realization dawned—with nothing better to do with their time, Cornelia and Guilford had taken to moonlighting as vigilantes, and then there was the fact that _oh crap he's headed this way—

_The two of them jumped out of their seats, somewhere in the process of deciding whether to flee or do what they could to help, but then the man crashed into Rivalz and the decision was out of their hands, the man grabbed Rivalz by the collar and began to rise to his feet again, only to fall again when Milly brought her chair down on his head._

_The restaurant was deathly quiet now, with the exception of the radio that was playing some comically peppy tune about falling in love._

"_Good work, Ashford!" Cornelia congratulated the two of them, dragging her own opponents behind her. "I was worried there for a moment, but you did yourself proud."_

_The man stirred, and Milly shrieked and hit him again._

"_And not just anyone…" Cornelia continued, turning the unconscious man onto his back. "I do believe this is the old man's son himself."_

"Ah," Adam said. "That's a bad business strategy."

Milly nodded grudgingly. "The first attack was some kind of ninja guy while I was asleep. If Arthur hadn't been in the room, I wouldn't be here. Then there was the sniper, and a staged terrorist attack just to track me down—"

"Yippie-ki-yay?" Lancer asked with a chuckle.

"Tamaki was so happy to say that, I've never understood why," Milly replied. "Anyway, it kept getting worse and worse, so I…"

"So you ran," Adam finished for her, folding his arms and standing up straight. "How noble of you." Milly rounded on him.

"Do you know how many people attend this school?" she demanded.

"Did you forget that you have some of the most elite soldiers in the world attending this school?" Adam replied in a measured tone. "All that would have happened is that your life would have been a little more involved for a while."

"And you probably would have fallen in love somewhere along the line, that tends to happen," Lancer agreed. "It would probably be your initially-standoffish bodyguard, or maybe a guy who happens to work for this… old man, whoever he is, and shares his desire for revenge—"

"'Lancer, do you read a lot of shoujo manga?' asks Misaka, as that is what this conversation is starting to remind Misaka of."

"I read anything if it has a good plot," Lancer replied.

"We're getting off topic," Adam replied. Milly glared at him.

"It doesn't matter what I should have or could have done," she said, clasping her hands in her lap as if trying to squeeze her frustration down. "That's what happened. And now that I'm here again, it's going to start happening again."

"And we'll be waiting," Lancer added.

"We will?" Adam muttered under his breath.

"Of course we will!" Lancer replied, "It's not my style to leave a pretty girl hanging!"

"I can't ask this of you," Milly said.

"'It's a little late for that,' Misaka points out," Misaka said.

There was a knock at the door. Adam glanced at Misaka, turned, and slowly opened it.

The man standing outside had long red hair, a patch over his right eye, and a cigarette in his mouth that Adam was fairly sure was against the rules. He wore a long, green olive coat over a slightly ratty t-shirt and khakis.

"… swear those two will be the death of me," he grumbled under his breath. Then, pushing the door open further, he said "Any of you know where you'd go around here to get something to eat?" Everyone paused.

"Actually," Milly said, "That sounds like a pretty good idea. Let's get something to eat.

**Author's Note: I'm a little worried that Misaka is going to turn into some kind of Creator's Pet-I just have so much fun writing her! However, she has stuff to do with Adam's character arc, so removing and replacing her would be all kinds of awkward. In any case, I am going to try to be as detached from her as possible while I write this story.**

**Also, joining the cast temporarily are a few characters from the phenomenal _Dogs: Bullets &amp; Carnage_ by Shirow Miwa. If you haven't heard of this guy, he's the man writing the OFFICIAL RWBY MANGA.**

**Next Chapter: Two days til the funeral and nothing to do. And people out there who want to kill you. WhatEVER could happen next?**


	10. Food

**Author's Note: So, who's pumped for the Volume Finale? Whoo?**

**Okay, look. If you're reading this, please review! I'll give you cookies... metaphorical cookies... please?**

**Disclaimer: If I owned any of these series... Shirley wouldn't be dead, and Adam would be a little more like Magneto. So, it's probably a good thing that I don't own them.**

* * *

**Food**

**It's Probably Important. We're Not Sure How.**

The unidentified red-haired man walked ahead of Lancer, his gait half-leisurely stroll, half-stalk. Lancer leaned over closer to Milly.

"You know this guy?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"His name is Nails," she explained in the same tone. "An information broker or private investigator or something. He does work for Lelouch every now and then."

"Not going to try to kill you?"

"No. Not unless I take away his cigarettes." Lancer gave her a dubious look. "What? I'm serious!"

"I can hear you," Nails replied in a sing-song tone. Lancer leaned away from Milly and tried his level best to look interested in the wallpaper. Milly rolled her eyes, and shoved her hands in her pockets. She turned down the hallway that would take her into the school proper, and through there to the cafeteria. It was odd, she hadn't been here in years, and yet she still knew the campus like the back of her hand.

"This way, guys," she called over her shoulder.

"So," Nails said casually, turning and racing back to catch up with the group, "Mob's still mad at you."

"You'd know, wouldn't you," Milly replied casually. "You go a week without getting someone to try and kill you yet?"

Nails laughed. "Wow, acid. Someone's got a bite now."

"Not much of one," Lancer said.

"Seriously, though," Nails added, the humor evaporating from his voice almost instantly, "News got out you were coming back next week. Boss went nuts. You'd think he'd be over it by now."

"Criminals these days," Lancer agreed. "They've got no sense style. Now Medb? She had style."

"Didn't she arrange your original death years after the original slight?" asked Adam, presumably cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but she spent those years planning it!" Lancer replied. "Seriously. She even covered all the bases—got me to break a geass, played on my honor, the works! This guy? He's just throwing assassins around!"

"I'll be sure to criticize him over that when we have our final confrontation," Milly said frostily. Lancer made an uncomfortable face, and the conversation ended.

* * *

The first thing that Milly noticed entering the cafeteria was that the room had been repainted. Then she noticed the new tables, and the row of vending machines that sat next to the window you went up to when your food was ready. Then, and only then, did she notice that there was a stack of plates that could beat Adam and Misaka combined for height in the middle of the room. And the two little girls one in a pink jacket, one in black, were eating beside it, digging into the dessert of the day (looked like pecan pie) with gusto.

"It's not Bueno Viorgno, but it's still really good!" the one in black said cheerfully.

"It really is good, Luki!" the other girl agreed with just as much enthusiasm.

"Glad you feel that way," Nails said casually. Both girls stiffened, then turned to face him with big, innocent smiles plastered over their faces.

"'Can they actually eat that much?' Misaka asks, as that much food does not look like it can fit safely into the human stom—" Misaka began. She trailed off as 'Luki' suddenly materialized directly in front of her face.

"Hey! I know you! It's one of those clone girls!" she said excitedly.

"'Oh. Oh no,' says Misaka, recognizing the two crazy girls." Adam placed an arm in between the two, glaring as if to say 'alright, break it up.' Milly was fairly sure she could differentiate between Adam's different glares, but it could be tricky at times seeing as all anyone could see at a given time was half of his face. Luki and her sister smiled a little longer, then huddled together.

"Do you think he wants to play, Noki?"

"This isn't the canon one, Luki."

Adam looked nonplussed (well, the corner of his mouth turned down, but Milly figured that meant nonplussed). Nails grabbed the two by the backs of their bunnie hoodies, and dragged them over to the counter. "I don't suppose you paid for all this," he hissed.

"But we DIIIID!" wailed Noki.

"Let's just make sure of that," Nails groused.

Milly, Lancer, Adam and Misaka stared after them.

"They come around here often?" Lancer asked.

"The girls are new," Milly replied.

"The Hardcore Twins?" Kallen asked, leaning over Milly's shoulder.

"Oh, is that what they're—wait, what?"

"Miss President!" Rivalz wailed, seizing Milly around the middle and weeping into her chest. Milly looked around—Gino, Rivalz, Kallen, Shirley, Suzaku, Nina, even Nunnally, pushed along in her wheelchair by Anya. With the exception of Lelouch, the entire Student Council had snuck up behind her without her notice. She turned and frowned at Lancer.

"What?" he asked. "You mean you didn't notice them?

* * *

"… So there we were, all on the back of the one go-kart, just rocketing down the hall," Gino announced. He reached forward as if grasping an imaginary steering wheel, clearly caught up in his own story. His supposed audience sat around an innocuous cafeteria table, paying him varying amounts of attention ranging between "vaguely interested" and "I was there, why are you telling me this." "Kallen, by this time, is sick of the whole game, so she climbs over Nina and gets her arm hooked around Rizalv's neck…"

"I'll admit," Milly said, "that's pretty audacious. I don't think even I would have thought of having a go-kart race throughout the school as not taking things too far."

"It was an accident," Rivalz pouted.

"Accident my foot!" Kallen snapped. "You knew what that button did!"

"It's not like I was trying to press it!"

Milly laughed. "You've had so many adventures," she grinned. "I wish I could have been there."

Gino trailed off. Milly suddenly became aware of everyone's eyes focusing on her. "I mean… I just…"

"Oh Milly," Shirley said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We wish you could have too."

Milly was glad it was Shirley saying it. From anyone else, those words probably would have been accusing.

"Anyone wanna hear about the time Kallen got a snake stuck in her shirt?" Suzaku asked. Kallen turned a charming shade of cherry red and turned on him.

"Kururugiiiii!" She shouted. Suzaku cringed.

"I'm sorry, it was the first thing I thought of!" he cried.

"Why was THAT the first thing you thought of?" Kallen replied. Shirley stared at Suzaku, blushing madly.

"But… Suzaku, you… you already have a girlfriend!" she wailed.

"That's not what I—I mean, I—Augh!" Suzaku attempted, before throwing up his hands in disgust. Then he rolled to the side, as Kallen's fist went through the space where his head had been a moment earlier.

"Hey, don't make a mess you two," Tamaki said, walking past holding a broom. "Cleaning up after you two is a bit of a pain."

"I thought you liked cleaning," Rivalz pointed out.

"There are jobs, and then there are _jobs_," Tamaki replied. "And that does not look like a _fun_ job."

MIlly sat back, watching the exchanges take place. It was strange—she seemed nonexistent. She remembered that Tamaki had been working as the janitor to get some money before moving on to another job, but she never would have imagined that he'd have willingly stayed on in the same roll. Nina looked more at ease, what with all the Japanese in the room—no, wait, there was a slightly wild look in her eyes. Guess she wasn't_ quite_ over that phobia yet.

"I guess some things don't change," she mused quietly.

"What does that mean?" Nunnally leaned forward. Anya glanced over her head at Milly, looking away from her photograph of Kallen trying to grind Suzaku's face into the table.

"Nothing," Milly replied with a shrug. "Nothing really important."

"It sounded important," Nunnally replied. Milly smiled.

"Like I said, nothing we really need to worry about."

"You're uncomfortable," Anya said. "Not sure you belong anymore." Milly gaped at her. "What?"

"How did you—" Milly sputtered, "I mean, you—you just—"

"Wasn't too hard," Anya replied. "You've been acting weird this entire time."

"So that's what that was," Nunnally pounded her fist into her hand.

Milly leaned forward, flopping onto the table. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I won't be here long anyways."

* * *

**Author's Note: So, this chapter turned out pretty short. I'm not sure what Reactsverse!Adam would think of Canon!Adam's recent actions, but I imagine that he'd be a wee bit put out with him. With this opening arc, I thought that I'd try going in with a general plan and playing things by ear. It doesn't seem to be working out. I'll have to put more work into the rest of this story.**

**Next Time: Night is a good time for assassins to attack. Poor assassins.**


	11. Night

**Author's Note: Welcome once again to the _Reactsverse_ fic that no one cares about.**

**Disclaimer: Let's be honest. If I owned any of this stuff, I wouldn't be here.**

**Night**

**It's Dark. That Is All.**

Lancer woke in the middle of the night. He stared up at the ceiling, looked around for a clock, and found it on a bedside table.

_One-thirty?_ He thought, _that's too early_. He flopped back down in bed, and closed his eyes.

Then he rolled onto one side and kept his eyes closed.

He rolled on to the other.

He opened his eyes, and glared up at the ceiling. The ceiling, being a ceiling, did nothing.

Lancer rolled out of bed, grumbling, and began wandering around the room searching for his pants.

He didn't really have any destination in mind, but he was feeling a mite hungry. Given that, Lancer wasn't especially surprised that his feet took him to the lobby. There was a small kitchen area off to one side that students could use to prepare heat up some food if they needed it, with a vending machine off for compulsive snackers. Oddly enough, the man that Milly had called Nails was sitting at the table facing a window and nursing a half-full bottle of soda.

"Hey," he said noncommittally.

Lancer raised an eyebrow—he had not announced his presence, and Nails had given no indication of being aware of his presence. "Hey," he replied. "You wanna be drinking that this late?"

"I have funny sleep habits," Nails said. "Comes from ticking off the local gangs every time I bend over. Actually, that's part of how I met the twins." Lancer considered this, and took the offer of conversation, figuring it was better than standing around saying nothing.

"What's their deal, anyhow?" he asked. "I've been around the block a few times, and I can't really say I've seen anything like them."

"You never can say you've seen everything," Nails mused, bringing a cigarette up to his mouth and rooting around in his pocket. "They're some kind of genetically engineered clones. I could never figure out the specifics."

"Oh yeah, you're an information broker?" Lancer recalled. He frowned. "There's someone I've been trying to find."

Nails shrugged. "Let's hear it. It'll cost you, though." He procured a lighter, and lit his cigarette.

"Fair enough," Lancer agreed. He said three words. Nails took a drag of his cigarette, closed his eyes, and brought a hand to his chin.

"I've got nothing," he said. "Last seen two years ago in Fuyuki City, then dropped off the map. That's all I've heard, at least." Lancer sighed. It wasn't any less that what he had expected, but it was still a little hard hearing that his search still hadn't brought any results. Nails gave him a look. "That's what you've been doing, isn't it. Looking for her."

Lancer shrugged. "Guess so."

The window slid open, and a man with his face covered in greasepaint stuck his head in. Lancer and Nails stared.

"Excuse me," the man said, "is Millicent Ashford in this building?" Nails and Lancer continued to stare.

"This is the men's dorm," Nails said at length. "She would be in the girl's dorm."

"Ah, thank you," the man said, leaned away, and shut the window. Lancer could hear him drop softly to the ground and speak in hushed tones.

"… Should we check that out?" he asked.

"If he was that stupid," Nails replied, "he deserves what's coming to him."

* * *

One of the problems with being connected to a network, Misaka mused, was that sometimes it can wake you up at odd hours of the night.

_/15077/ Cats are far superior to dogs, explains Misaka in a mocking tone, disapproving her sister's foolishness._

_/10055/ That is not true, Misaka refutes. Dogs are far more caring and affectionate, she continues._

_/15077/ Cats are more self-sufficient, Misaka points out._

_/10033/ Shut up. Misaka can't sleep._

_/Last Order/ Yes, please be quiet says Misaka as Misaka is becoming increasingly annoyed since she also cannot sleep._

Misaka closed her eyes and rolled over in bed. In the bunk above her she could hear Milly tossing fitfully. Maybe she should try to comfort her? But how would she do that?

There was a scratching at the window, and it slid open to let a man that Misaka was unfamiliar with in. Grumbling and cursing under his breath, he tumbled through and sprawled on the floor.

"'Are you an assassin?' Misaka whispers," Misaka said in a conversational tone. Above her, she heard Milly still. The man looked at her in askance, and lifted himself to his feet.

"Yes, I would be," he said in a low voice.

"'Ah. In that case, Misaka should probably scream to alert everyone,' Misaka realizes," Misaka said. The would-be assassin's eyes widened, and he lunged. "'Aaaaah,' Misaka screams" Misaka said, her tone exactly the same. The assassin stumbled over his feet.

"Look kid," he said, grabbing Misaka by the wrist, "I don't know what youUUUUAAAAAAAARRGH!"

"'Yes, like that,' Misaka says proudly." Milly was already rolling out of bed, grabbing her pistols.

* * *

"That was probably him," Nails said. He took a drag of his cigarette.

"Probably," Lancer agreed. He sipped his coke. "Nowhere near that guy on the ship's level."

"Oh? Do tell," Nails raised an eyebrow. Lancer gave him a sidelong look, and figured it couldn't hurt.

"Some crazy bat-faunus. Adam and I tag-teamed him, and we could barely keep up." He swirled his coke. "Adam called him Koumori. You ever hear about him?"

"You got five-thousand Lien?"

* * *

Milly was running.

Currently, she didn't know how many assassins were in the building, or where they were. Her best bet was to get somewhere with lots of people—no, she couldn't do that. They could be disguised as students—Lelouch would have anticipated this probability, weeded them out. Even so, despite the past two years apparently being incident after madcap incident, Ashford Academy was no Beacon. Anyone near her would be in danger. It was why she had left Misaka behind, the clone girl's shorter legs not able to keep up. Milly had to get out—or find Kallen or Anya, accomplished fighters who could handle themselves.

She was so determined to get away, she almost didn't register the figure in front of her until they were almost on top of each other. She didn't recognize him. She was alone, couldn't take the chance on his identity. She jumped, brought a foot up in a near-perfect flying side kick that sent him tumbling to the floor, turned her fall into a tumble, came up running.

The man that she dropped pulled himself to his feet, grumbling. "Stupid, I hate this job… I should follow Mom's advice, quit, find a nice girl…" He paused, and turned to see two small, green-haired girls smiling up at him. "Who are you?"

"It's very late, isn't it Noki?"

"Yes it is, Luki."

"He shouldn't be here, should he."

"No he shouldn't. Do you think he wants to play with us?"

"You aren't making sense," the man hissed, his blood running cold—HOW DID THOSE FIT IN THEIR SLEEVES?!

"Do you want to play with us?" they asked in unison. Their tones and suddenly feral smiles left little doubt what "play" meant in this situation.

* * *

Back to Milly, who we left for a moment for no good reason at all. Let's see, running, dodging, fleeing, right.

The first warning she had was the sudden roar of a round leaving the barrel. She threw herself to the floor, skidded along, and pulled herself to her feet in time to bounce her shoulder off a wall.

"Not bad," a gravelly voice called. "Not many are able to dodge that."

Milly swallowed, suddenly very aware that the wall next to where her head had just been seconds earlier was now a smoking hole. "Well, you know," she said, trying to fill her voice with false bravado, "I've gotten kind of good at not being dead." She scanned the hall, trying to figure out who was talking.

"Over her, girl," the voice said. In a flash, Milly's guns were aimed at the wall as it exploded outwards, allowing the man who had concealed himself in the adjacent room into the hall.

He was of above-average height, with neck-length grey hair and eyes. He wore a leather jacket over a silver-grey shirt and black jeans, and his legs were encased in large, metal greaves. He grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Looks like this job's gonna be interesting," he said congenially. "Nice to meet you, I'm Marcus Black."

**Author's Note: Kind of a disappointing ending? Yeah, I was a little put out when the chapter ended up this way too. It just seemed like a natural endpoint. And man was I feeling goofy when I wrote this.**

**Next Time: People fight. The story continues. You know, the usual.**


	12. Fight Scene

**Author's Note: I... Have... RETURNED! And should really be studying. My first final is tomorrow. Oh well, posting this should only take a minute.**

**I hope.**

**Let's do a thing!**

**Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, vaguely amusing joke about not owning any of this.**

**Fight Scene**

**Yes, Another One**

"Black?" Milly said, lowering her pistols, "Like the idol singer?"

Marcus Black groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "That's my son," he said tightly. "Pop music. If he's going to be a musician, couldn't he at least play something manly? Like film soundtracks?"

Milly wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Marcus Black. What had she heard about Marcus Black… Oh. Oh. Crap. She brought her pistols up once again, bringing them to bear on the assassin. "Why yes," Black said dryly, "I'm very happy to see you to. It means that I'll be able to finish this job and get paid. Any more questions?"

He sunk into a crouch. "No? Good."

Then he was on her.

* * *

Adam burst into the room.

"Hey, Taurus. What's up?" Lancer said cheerfully.

"What's going on," Adam snapped.

"Assassins in the girl's dormitory," Nails replied. "Probably getting taken care of as we speak."

Adam jumped out the window.

"Never done that before," Lancer said contemplatively. He rubbed his chin. "Oh well, probably nothing." He finished off his soda, and planted the bottle next to its empty compatriots, and stood up to check the refrigerator for another.

* * *

Milly jumped away, firing as she went, but Black was fast, the kind of learned speed that she had seen from Adam and Lancer, and he danced around her shots, ricocheting off of the walls and spinning above her, bringing a leg down in a vicious axe kick. Milly brought her pistols up in a chopping motion, catching the attack, but Black's other leg came forward and she swung to the side, throwing him away and sending his left foot mere centimeters past her face. He planted his hands on the floor, spinning himself around, Milly leaned away too late and he knocked one pistol from her hand.

She shifted the second one into a two handed grip, firing wildly, and Black dropped low going for a leg sweep that she jumped above, flipping backwards to land on her feet firing again. Black charged in, going for a snap kick, but Milly was ready for him this time and she slid neatly inside his guard, bringing a fist up to punch him squarely in the eye, if he hadn't brought his own arm up to block, but that left his side open and she brought her pistol up to aim at his temple, or where his temple was a split second ago, as he leaned backwards, throwing himself into a somersault that planted him on his feet again so that he could charge forward. That was all Milly needed to throw herself backwards, flipping herself and coming up with both pistols in hand again.

They paused a second, regarding each other.

Then they were moving again, charging in close, and just as Black was leaping, kicking out, Milly dodged past and opened fire. The greave on Black's back leg fired, throwing him into another flip to dodge the shots, but now Milly knew where he would be landing and opened fire again. Then she realized that he hadn't attempted to evade where she was firing and threw herself back, the bullet from Black's greave slicing across her side. Black landed on his feet and shot forward, Milly flipped her guns around to hold them like impromptu tonfas, and Black attacked with a flurry of kicks that Milly could barely block much less dodge. She was being pushed back, she knew it, soon she would be against the wall with nowhere to turn to and JUMP!

The bullet whizzed under her feet and as she landed she looked to her side, down the hall that the shot had come from. Now that the battle had truly paused, she could hear… No screams. That was strange.

"Didn't I tell you to stay back at the safe house?" Black snarled at the interloper. They looked to be about ten or eleven, with pale lavender bangs that hid their face like a half-drawn curtain, allowing one black eye to peer out nervously. They were clad all in black clothing that hung off of a too-small, too-thin frame, black shoes, black jeans, and a massive black sweater that dropped down over their hands and covered everything from the mouth down… with the exception of a massive tear in the left shoulder, which allowed Milly to see bandages wrapped around the offending spot.

Her stomach churned. The mysterious shooter on the ferry.

A door slammed open.

"Hey!" Nina shrieked. "Keep it down, I'm trying to sleep!"

Milly, Black, and the mysterious… whatever they were, Milly honestly couldn't tell—looked at her in collective askance. Nina stalked back into her room and slammed the door with a humph.

"… That aside," Black said. "What are you doing here?"

"M-mission," the child stammered—darn it, even the voice was androgynous!—bringing the massive black pistol they were carrying to bear on Milly again. "Gotta complete the mission."

"I'm completing this mission," Black said flatly. "You had your chance, you blew it. Now head back."

Milly had found that one of the stupidest things that you could do in the middle of a fight was to stop and hold a conversation. She decided to demonstrate why it was such a foolish idea, and opened fire on Black again.

* * *

One of many things that their series of battles with Accelerator had taught the Network was that fighting in a closed space meant that you were more liable to get hit with bullets, knives, empty coke cans, or whatever it was that your enemy felt like using against you. While normally Misaka could use this to some degree of advantage, this time she was lacking in a very important piece of her arsenal, and was unable to. There, she was quietly and carefully working her way out of the dorm, trying to get somewhere that she could figure out what was going on and tripping over the balled-up whimpering man on the floor.

Ow.

"'Oh, Misaka remembers you,' says Misaka, expressing relief and some misgiving at encountering potential allies. 'Where did you get that gun?' she asks."

"I always carry this with me," Luki said cheerfully, waving the… cannon that she held in the limited space that she could.

"And I always carry my knife!" Noki added, brandishing her own weapon. The man on the floor whimpered again and tried to squeeze himself into an even tighter ball.

"What's going on here?"

They all turned at the sound. Kallen and Lelouch were standing behind them. Neither of them looked amused. Shirley (who Kallen was carrying in a piggyback position) looked mostly asleep.

"We were out late picking up some important visitors," Lelouch said tightly. "We get caught traffic for an hour after an accident, and lost two more after being swarmed by an army of cats. Who even needs an army of cats? I don't know! WHY WAS THERE AN ARMY OF CATS—"

Kallen slapped her hand over his mouth. "Sorry," she grinned ruefully, "he's a _little_ bit stressed."

"'The dorm is being attacked by assassins,' Misaka explains despite her own curiosity about the army of cats," Misaka stated. There was a loud _crash_ and plaster rained from the ceiling as if punctuating her words. Then Adam exploded through the wall, skidding to a halt as his eyes met Misaka's. In an instant, he was standing there as if he had been loitering around the whole night.

Lelouch grinned almost maniacally, and clenched his fists.

"Sayako. Jeremiah." He bit out.

"Sir."

"Master Lelouch."

"Wow, Luki! Where did they come from!"

"It's how you establish an awesome character, Noki!"

"Find these assassins," Lelouch continued, "and DEAL WITH THEM."

"No need," another voice came, and a figure stepped out from the shadows. "If you don't mind, I was in that car for a while. I don't suppose I could stretch my legs a little?"

* * *

On the one hand, Marcus Black. A melee fighter who primarily specialized in kick-based fighting styles. Getting close was tricky, but not impossible and made it difficult for him to use his preferred techniques.

On the other hand, the young child who Milly had decided to call Squishy until she could safely inquire as to their actual name. Small. Light. Still, carried a hand-cannon like it was nothing, so they weren't especially weak. Apparently allied with Marcus Black, however temporarily it might be.

The solution was simple. Get close to Marcus Black, take advantage of the above weakness. It would impair the child's ability to hit her without injuring their ally, and if she was fast enough, she could keep them from getting a clear shot. Child's play.

Or it would have been, if the kid _wasn't such a good shot!_

Duck. Flip. Dodge. Fire. Yikes!

Milly was in trouble and she knew it. The battle was speeding up as Black and the child built up a rhythm, and while she could hold her own in a fight, she was on average a wimp compared to pretty much everyone in Remnant. This was becoming more and more obvious and Black was coming closer and closer to getting the one hit he needed to end her.

Thus, it became apparent, a new plan was needed.

So Milly began firing at the floor, spraying bullets everywhere she could. The floor couldn't be doing well after enduring all of Black's devastating kicks, and sure enough, when his foot came down once again the floor gave way and dropped all three of them in the hall directly downstairs. Milly took the opportunity to start running again, dodging around the child's now-clumsy shots (a child, no matter how formidable, was still a child) turned a corner, and forced her legs—screaming from the exertion of a fight that would have not left Lancer of Adam even mildly sweaty—OHCRAP Black's foot was planted right between her shoulder blades and it was all over and—

When Milly came too, she immediately scrambled to her feet, casting about for her pistols. Whoever had gotten her, she hadn't even seen them. She needed to be prepared, armed against whatever was coming…

"Sorry about that," someone said behind her. And Milly definitely recognized the voice. It's owner had been an infrequent visitor during her childhood, usually vanishing behind closed doors with her grandfather to discuss secret things that she wasn't yet old enough to know.

She turned.

Her savior was standing there, right foot planted firmly on Marcus Black's back, the child tucked under left arm. "It's been a little while since I've gotten to do anything fun," he said, "and I'm afraid I got a bit carried away. Don't worry, you weren't out longer than a minute, and this little lady was already quite out of the fight. Nice trick with the floor there, although I'm not certain the contractors will agree."

Milly gaped. "Mister Ozpin," she said finally, "Does Miss Goodwitch know you're here?"

Professor Ozpin blinked. "Yes, yes, of course she does. Why wouldn't she?"

**Author's Note: I don't think Glynda knows he's there. So, yeah, Ozpin is going to be here for a few chapters. Five or six, or however it takes me to get through three-four days. I hope that wasn't a spoiler. And chronologically this story arc will end before the end of the Mandatory Training Arc in Weiss Reacts, so if anyone out there is keeping track of the timeline (comically slim chance though it may be) now you know.**

**And knowing is half the battle.**

**So yeah, next time: Lelouch talks to his "houseguests" and... I guess we have the will-reading? I need to start planning these things out better.**


	13. Down Time

**Author's Note: Here we are again. I actually think this one came out sooner than usual. Scheduling is weird like that. Let's see if we can't get this going...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the series shown in here. I'm also trying to figure out more unfunny jokes about it. Stay tuned.**

**Down Time**

**Whatcha Gonna Do?**

"That was quite the commotion last night," Ozpin said, raising his coffee mug to his lips. Lelouch sighed and examined his own cup, watching the door to the meeting room.

Last night had proceeded into this morning, with no regard for the human need for sleep—confirming that no one had suffered permanent harm besides the interlopers, calling up the insurance companies that were still willing to do business with Ashford Academy, making sure that the policemen who came for Marcus Black were fully capable of transporting the man to the highest security facility in the city, where he would wait to be transferred to an even higher security facility on the mainland. After tucking Shirley in, Lelouch had instructed Kallen to get some rest herself and, bolstering himself with an elephant dose of caffeine, set to work. He was used to these kinds of things and had worked with a near-clinical precision born of practice.

The problem came when morning finally rolled around and he had completed the paperwork. Any other day, he would have slept the lost hours away. Right now, though, was a fairly important meeting, and preparations/idiot proofing for the funeral would run through the rest of the day.

"What are you planning on doing with the girl?" he asked—something that he realized he had yet to ask. "Gina Marlon, didn't you say her name was?"

"Our friend the child soldier?" Ozpin replied. "To be honest, it's going to take some work. She's not exactly ready to integrate into society, and when I called Beacon to ask for a background check, Glynda started yelling at me for 'leaving her to the madness' or some such." He shrugged. "I know someone who'll take care of her if no one else will."

Lelouch nodded, adding 'background check' to his mental to-do list.

The door clicked open, and the third attendee slid into the room—or rather, he attempted to roll into the room on his omni-present swivel chair, but the wheels caught on the lip and he was thrown to the floor.

"Doctor Stein," Lelouch said. "Thank you for finally joining us. If you'll shut the door?"

"Oh, certainly," Franken Stein replied, standing and setting his chair upright.

"Now then, please state your names for the record. As you are all aware, I am Lelouch Lamperouge, founder and head of the Black Knights and the Orion Society."

"Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy and God-Emperor of Swag," Ozpin replied, completely straight faced. Lelouch sighed, and gestured to Stein.

"Doctor Franken Stein," he obliged, "Teacher at Death Weapon Meister Academy, and representative of the Antic Order."

"Thank you. Now then, Professor Ozpin, as the one who called this meeting, what are we here to discuss?"

* * *

Lancer gave Nails a sidelong look. "You're absolutely sure you're not going to get lung cancer?" he asked. "I don't think you've stopped smoking the entire time you've been here."

Nails shrugged. "I wondered about it a few times, but then I figured that I'd have gotten it already."

Lancer shrugged, and returned to examining the signboard. "Cafeteria… Nah, already had breakfast. Auditorium? No events. Movie theater…" he brought a hand to his chin, turned to look at Nails, who shrugged . "Maybe later. Hanger?"

"It's where Asplund and Chawla keep all their stuff," Nails confirmed. "Knightmare Frames and the like."

"Might as well," Lancer said. "Maybe Adam'll be there."

"Doesn't exactly strike me as the mechanical type."

"He's not. He goes over places, makes sure he knows where everything is—weapons, food, stuff you might need in a pinch."

"Makes sense. What about the other two?"

Lancer thought about this for a moment. "Misaka… She's probably wandering around campus. Hasn't got much by the way of interest."

"She's a teenage girl, she's got to have some kind of silly little obsession."

"She's one of those clone girls. You know, from Academy City?"

Nails hummed and nodded. "And the Ashford girl?"

Lancer shrugged. "Heck if I know. Maybe she's hiding out in the basement?"

* * *

"I've done it, Mister Table!" gloated Nina Einstein as she waved a sheaf of papers triumphantly. "We'll finally be rid of Suzaku Kururugi once and for all!"

Mister Table said nothing. Mister Table was, after all, a table.

"It's so simple, I can't believe I didn't realize it for two years!" Nina went on with little regard for above fact. "All we needed to do was—"

Milly slammed the door to the student council room open. "Nina! Perfect, you're still crazy. I need your help!"

Nina hid her papers behind her back. "I—well, what with?"

Milly sighed, and gestured grandiosely. "As you are aware, I left Ashford Academy two years ago. Since then, I have devoted much of my time to specifically not being dead. And do you know what that means?" She began to walk purposefully towards Nina.

"… No?" Nina replied.

"It means that, in over a year, I have not committed a single antic. Moreover, I have as of late been traveling with what may be one of the LEAST receptive audiences ever." Milly slammed her hands down on Mister Table. "It means, Nina, that now is the time that I must confirm that I have not lost my touch. It means that I once again require your resources."

"But—the funeral's tomorrow," Nina pointed out, trying to find a place to discretely drop her work.

"Nina."

Nina jolted at Milly's tone—pleading instead of stately, tired. "Yes?"

"Please. Just… please. I'm back but everything's different, and I…" Milly put on a _smile_, the plastic kind that you wear when you don't want anyone to see what you really feel. "I just need to take my mind off of things for a little while. You know?"

Nina stared awkwardly, and lay her papers down on a nearby chair. "Let me ask Mister Table," she said.

* * *

"And that is the situation as it now stands, gentlemen," Ozpin said. "Any questions?"

"Yes. Why hasn't the Antic Order intervened yet?" Lelouch asked, giving a pointed look at Stein. "You have the resources and the ability. Why not do something?"

"Antic Lord Zelretch prefers to let people fight their own battles," Stein replied, twisting the bolt planted in his head. "Also… not enough of the situation has been confirmed. If things get bad enough, we will mobilize, don't doubt it, but Demeter hasn't shown her hand yet." He shrugged. "Besides, we're mainly shippers."

"Incredibly powerful shippers," Lelouch corrected.

"A not inaccurate statement," Stein conceded, "but shippers still. It's not always easy to mobilize, and some of us have problems of our own to deal with."

Lelouch sighed. "I suppose that makes sense. I take it that this meeting was called so that you could request the help of my intelligence network?"

"If possible," Ozpin confirmed. "We have worked together fairly well in the past." Lelouch nodded, and examined his hands passively.

"I'll do what I can," he agreed, "But I have been encountering problems myself."

"What do you mean?" Ozpin asked.

"Recently, there have been signs of someone working… counter to the Orion Society. Blocking us from entering certain areas, or outright attacking our agents." Lelouch shrugged. "I don't think they suspect our existence yet, but considering our line of work…"

"I see," Ozpin replied. "Unfortunately, there's not much I can do to help. Most of my faculty is on alert due to the current situation."

"I'm working on the fallout from Spirit and Medusa's wedding," Stein added, "but there may be something the Order can do to help. I'll see if no one's busy."

"That would be very helpful… Wait." Lelouch glanced over at Ozpin, who shrugged. "When you say _Spirit_ and _Medusa_—"

"_I don't understand it either_."

* * *

_/10033/ When did you say the package would arrive? asks Misaka, growing frustrated from the wait._

_/17077/ It should be there by afternoon today. Now stop asking, explains Misaka, growing frustrated herself at having to deal with the same question so many times._

_/Last Order/ Knock it off you two, orders Misaka as Misaka becomes frustrated herself._

_/10032/ Try not to lose this one, requests Misaka humorously._

Misaka opened her eyes, blinking at the bright light filtering through the branches of the tree she sat under.

As the different Misakas gained greater senses of self, many things had entered the Misaka Network—things like conflicting opinions, taunts with no apparent reason other than to get a rise, and in a few cases, words that weren't meant to hurt but still stung.

10032 hadn't meant anything by it. In fact, if Onee-sama had said the same thing, 10033 would have appreciated the humor and been about her business.

_But that's just Onee-sama being Onee-sama. 10032 is different._

_/10032/ Did you say something? Asks Misaka, not quite catching the last words._

_/10033/ Misaka said that she will do what she can, Misaka replies defiantly._

* * *

Lancer blinked. "There are Monokumas hanging from the rafters," he said.

"The Great Despair Invasion of Two-and-a-Half Weeks Ago," Cecile Croomy explained. "They tried to seize control of the Knightmare Frames and some… other projects. It didn't go as well as they expected."

"Why are they still hanging from the rafters?" Lancer replied. Usually, these things were something you didn't want to leaving hanging around.

"Doctor Chawla requested that we leave them there after she won the kill-count," Cecile replied.

"Oh. I guess I can respect that," Lancer replied. "You said other projects?"

"Nothing of very great import," she said. "Mainly just ego trips."

"They ever get that Gundam working?" Nails asked. Lancer raised an eyebrow.

"You have a Gundam?" he asked. Cecile shrugged.

"It's a replica of the X105 Strike," she explained. "We found it in a junkyard, and Lloyd figured he could get it working again. He's not quite there yet, but it's looking remarkably better than when we found it."

"Maybe I could help with that," Lancer said contemplatively. Nails guffawed.

"You mean you actually know how to build a Gundam?" he snorted.

"Not that well. I worked with Amuro Ray a few times during the Legend War, though. Picked up a better than passing understanding."

"The Legend War?" Cecile asked.

"Think Holy Grail War," Nails said, "but with hundreds of Heroes multiple centuries ago and spanning the entire world."

"But isn't _Gundam_ set in the distant future?"

Lancer and Nails gave her a collective blank look. "This is the Reactsverse," Lancer stated.

"Fair point."

* * *

Adam stood at the top of the bell tower, examining the campus. War was approaching, and he needed to prepare for it.

Alright, so maybe that wasn't quite what was going on. Assassins would be coming for Milly while she was here, and people would be caught in the crossfire—including, potentially, himself and Misaka. He needed to be prepared for when that happened.

Also… Koumori was out there. And he was stronger and he was worse than Adam had ever seen him. The thought that Adam cared about a human seemed to have enraged him… if he came, he would definitely come for Misaka. And while she could defend herself, this was an opponent that she stood no chance of defeating.

Maybe… the man who trained him. Immediately following the Siegmund incident, Adam had requested that he watch over Ariel. If he had Misaka go to stay with him, she would be safe beyond a shadow of a doubt. What if she were to refuse, though? What if she chose to go into danger regardless?

No, she would be reasonable. Misaka was no fool, she would stay if she was told. He knew her well enough to be certain of—

"LOOK OUT!"

Soccer ball. Ow. Who in Ashford had legs strong enough? What had he been thinking about, again? Oh, was he falling?

Yep, definitely falling.

* * *

"One final question, before we leave," Ozpin said, standing. "The current situation with Milly Ashford."

"What about it?" Lelouch asked.

"What do you intend to do about it?"

"To be honest, I have quite a few things on my hands, and we have dealt with worse on a fairly regular basis." Lelouch sighed. "It shouldn't be too much of a problem. If it becomes so… Well, I have my methods."

"Speaking of Miss Ashford," Stein cut in, "I was asked to speak with her. Order business. Do you know where she would be?"

"I have a few ideas, I guess," Lelouch replied, rising. "Is that all the business we have to deal with?"

"I believe it is," Stein replied. "I'll pass your concerns along to Lord Zelretch." He spun in his swivel chair to face the door.

_Come to think of it… Yes, Milly is a member of the Order_, Lelouch thought. _Would she…_ Calm gave way to a niggling feeling of concern. With brisk strides, he walked to the door and threw it open.

"Ah," Stein said, staring calmly into the face of the advancing flood of maple syrup, "I suppose she _will_ be wanting to renew her membership, then."

**Author's Note: You know, it's funny. I literally went back and rewatched Code Geass JUST to get a better handle on the characters, and I'm still not that good at writing them.**

**In other news, my approach to this story has changed somewhat from when I started. I went into this fic with barely anything planned, intending to write by the seat of my metaphorical pants. Now, I have a definite endgame planned out and I just need to get there.**

**Next Chapter: The will reading. And some other stuff. I've got to start bulking up my chapters.**


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